h very dry bread, and skim milk largely diluted
with water.

"Grannie wouldn't treat us like that," said Kitty, who was extremely
fond of her meals.

"You may be thankful if you even get dry bread soon," said Alison.

The three little girls stared up at her with wondering, terrified eyes.
Her tone was very morose. They saw that she was unapproachable, and
looked down again. They ate their unpalatable meal quickly, and in
silence. Alison kept the kettle boiling on the fire against Grannie's
return.

"You haven't taken any tea yourself," said Polly, who was Alison's
room-fellow, and the most affectionate of the three.

"I aint hungry, dear; don't notice it," said the elder sister in a
somewhat gentler tone. "Now you may run, all of you, and have a play
in the court."

"But it's quite dark, and Grannie doesn't like us to be out in the
dark."

"I don't think she'll mind when I tell her that I gave you leave. I
have a splitting headache and must be alone for a bit. It is a dry
night, and the three of you keep close together, and then you'll come
to no harm. There, run off now, and don't bother me."

Kitty stared hard at her sister; Polly's eyes flashed with pleasure at
the thought of a bit of unexpected fun; Annie was only too anxious to
be off. Soon Alison had the little kitchen to herself. She sat by the
fire, feeling very dull and heavy; her thoughts would keep circulating
round unpleasant subjects: the one pound ten and sevenpence halfpenny
which stood between the family and starvation; Jim and Louisa--Louisa's
face full of triumph, and her voice full of pride, and Jim's devotion
to her; Grannie's painful right hand, and the feather-stitching which
she, Alison, had never taken the trouble to learn.

"The old lady was right," she said, half under her breath, half aloud.
"She's a deal wiser than me, and I might have done worse that follow
her advice. I wish I knew the stitch now; yes, I do. Oh! is that you,
Dave?" as her brother came in; "but we have done tea."

"I have had some," said David. "Mr. Watson called me into his room,
and gave me a cup. What is it, Ally; what's the matter?"

"You needn't ask," said Alison. "You don't suppose I am likely to be
very cheerful just now."

"I am ever so sorry," said the boy. "I can't think how this trouble
come to you."

"If it's Jim," she answered angrily, "you needn't worry to find out,
for I'll tell you. I don't love him no more. He would have mar