e was one thing which Nealie had to do that she could not speak of
to the doctor, who had been so truly good to them. Her money was
exhausted save for a few shillings, and, being face to face with
destitution, and not sure of finding her father even when she reached
Mostyn, she must have money from somewhere.

In her extremity she thought of Mr. Runciman, and although it would take
most of her remaining shillings to cable to him, she had determined to
do it.

When Dr. Plumstead had started for Pig Hill she found her way to the
telegraph office and dispatched her pitiful request.

"Please send us some money, we have not found Father here.

"Cornelia Plumstead."

But cables are expensive things, and when she came to send it she found
that she would not have enough money for the whole, and had to shorten
it, so that when it actually went it was more a demand than a plea:

"Send us money; Father not here."

"And if he does not send it, whatever shall we do?" cried Sylvia, who
had to be told, if only for the sake of sobering her and making her more
keenly alive to the responsibilities of the situation.

"He will send it, I am quite sure," replied Nealie, with a beautiful
faith in Mr. Runciman's real goodness of heart that was justified in due
course by the arrival of a cablegram authorizing her to draw fifty
pounds from the Hammerville bank as she needed it.

But she had to start off in the grey dawn of the next morning, in
company with the usurping Dr. Plumstead--as Sylvia would persist in
calling him--without knowing that her need was to be met in this
generous manner. It was perhaps the very darkest hour in her life, and
her face was drawn and pinched with the weight of her care as she lifted
it to the cold grey of the sky when she mounted into the high
two-wheeled cart which the doctor had borrowed for the journey. But even
as she looked, all the grey was flushed with rose colour from the rising
sun, and the sight brought back her courage with a rush, so that she was
able to turn and smile at the little group gathered at the door of the
doctor's house to see her drive away.

"Mind you take good care of Rupert, Sylvia," she called, feeling that
her next sister was really not old enough for such a heavy
responsibility; only, as there was no one else to take it, of course
Sylvia would have to do her best.

"I will see that she looks after him properly," said Rumple, with a wa