is to become of it all nobody can
tell. Here is her father with every penny he has in the world in this
work--so Holker tells me--and here are a lot of damages for dead men and
Heaven knows what else; and there is Jack Breen with not a penny to his
name except his month's wages; and here is Ruth who can marry anybody
she chooses, bewitched by that boy--and I grant you she has every reason
for he is as brave as he can be, and what is better he is a gentleman.
And there lies Henry MacFarlane blind as a bat as to what is going on!
Oh!--really, Peter, there cannot be anything more absurd."

During the outbreak Peter stood leaning on his umbrella, a smile playing
over his smooth-shaven face, his eyes snapping as if at some inwardly
suppressed fun. These were the kind of outbursts Peter loved. It was
only when Felicia was about to come over to your way of thinking that
she talked like this. It was her way of hearing the other side.

"Dreadful!--dreadful!" sighed Peter, looking the picture of woe. "Love
in a garret--everybody in rags,--one meal a day--awful situation!
Something's got to be done at once. I'll begin by taking up a collection
this very day. In the meantime, Felicia, I'll just keep on to Jack's and
see how his arm's getting on and his head. As to his heart,--I'll talk
to Ruth and see--"

"Are you crazy, Peter? You will do nothing of the kind. If you do, I
will--"

But Peter, his hat in the air, was now out of hearing. When he reached
the mud line he turned, drew his umbrella as if from an imaginary
scabbard, made a military salute, and, with a suppressed gurgle in his
throat, kept on to Jack's room.

Somehow the sunshine had crept into the old fellow's veins this morning.
None of Miss Felicia's pins for him!

Ruth, from her place by the sitting-room window, had seen the two
talking and had opened the front door, before Miss Felicia's hand
touched the bell. She had already subjected Peter to a running fire
of questions while he was taking his coffee and thus had the latest
intelligence down to the moment when Peter turned low Jack's light and
had tucked him in. He was asleep when Peter had peered into his cramped
room early this morning, and the bulletin therefore could go no further.

"And how is he, aunty?" Ruth asked in a breathless tone before the front
door could be closed.

"Getting on splendidly, my dear. Slept pretty well. It is a dreadful
place for any one to be in, but I suppose he is accustomed