rse he had a long way to go to
the City; but what of that, when loving hands waved him an adieu from
the window? What did any extra amount of labour matter now that the
stiff formal dinners, and the terribly chilling evenings in the library
at Gore House were at an end for ever.

Mr. Murray often paid a visit to the little cottage at Hampstead, and
whenever he came he was always warmly welcomed, both by Agnes and Mrs.
Clair.

The tenant of the house in Fitzroy Square was behaving very well indeed:
the rent would be ready by quarter-day, and there were several things in
the house that he would be pleased if Mrs. Clair could take away: the
piano, for instance; he would consider it a real kindness if she could
remove that, he had no use whatever for it, and had a case of rare
butterflies that would stand very comfortably in its place. So the
instrument arrived one day at the lodgings, and gave the children more
enjoyment than anything else, for the evenings were drawing in, and it
was too dark for a run on the Heath after the boys returned from the
City.

They all sang and played by instinct, and Aunt Amy gave them a lesson
each every evening, and as the evenings became longer, and winter crept
towards them with "stealthy steps and slow," they settled down to a
regular course of study.

Bertie devoted most of his time to music; Eddie to reading up his French
and German--for he found both those languages would be very useful to
him in the City; while Agnes was busy over her drawing-board, tracing
designs for Christmas and Easter cards. She declared she was not going
to be the only drone in the hive, and bade fair to be successful later
on, for two of her little cards had already been accepted by a great
City publishing firm. When Mr. Murray dropped in of an evening he used
to have a long look from one to the other of their cheerful, contented
faces, and then he would have a little private conversation with himself
in a corner.

"They're too happy," he would mutter, "too content, too well occupied.
Good fortune would only spoil them now. I'll wait and watch a little
longer; and yet, people who bear poverty with such equanimity should
bear the accession of riches with humility; still, I'll wait a little.
My old friend's children are bearing their probation bravely." For to
Mr. Murray Mrs. Clair's income seemed absolute poverty: he paid some of
his own servants nearly as much; and the great City merchant was
learning, f