ck of the house."

Nan never knew why she wrote this. Was it to remind him vaguely that
the time of roses was over, and that from this day things would be
different with them?

Nan was quite satisfied when she had despatched this letter. It told
just enough, and not too much. It sorely perplexed and troubled Dick;
and yet neither he nor his father had the least idea how things really
were with the Challoners.

"Didn't I tell you so, Bessie?" exclaimed Mr. Mayne, almost in a voice
of triumph, as he struck his hand upon the letter. "Paine was right
when he spoke of a shaky investment. That comes of women pretending to
understand business. A pretty mess they seem to have made of it!"

"Mother," said poor Dick, coming up to her when he found himself alone
with her for a moment, "I don't understand this letter. I cannot read
between the lines, somehow, and yet there seems something more than
meets the eye."

"I am sure it is bad enough," returned Mrs. Mayne, who had been
quietly crying over Nan's postscript. "Think of them leaving Glen
Cottage, and of these poor dear girls having to make themselves
useful!"

"It is just that that bothers me so," replied Dick, with a frowning
brow. "The letter tells us so little; it is so constrained in tone; as
though they were keeping something from us. Of course they have
something to live upon, but I am afraid it is very little."

"Very likely they will only have one servant,--just Dorothy and no one
else; and the girls will have to help in the house," returned his
mother, thoughtfully. "That will not do them any harm, Dick: it always
improves girls to make them useful. I dare say the Friary is a very
small place, and then I am sure, with a little help, Dorothy will do
very well."

"But, mother," pleaded Dick, who was somewhat comforted by this
sensible view of the matter, "do write to Nan or Phillis and beg of
them to give us fuller particulars." And, though Mrs. Mayne promised
she would do so, and kept her word, Dick was not satisfied, but sat
down and scrawled a long letter to Mrs. Challoner, so incoherent in
its expressions of sympathy and regret that it quite mystified her;
but Nan thought it perfect, and took possession of it, and read it
every day, until it got quite thin and worn. One sentence especially
pleased her. "I don't intend ever to cross the threshold of the
cottage again," wrote Dick: "in fact, Oldfield will be hateful without
you all. Of course I shall run do