"Have you had your dinner?" she said. For there was Alvina sitting
writing a letter.

"I'm going by a later train," said Alvina.

"Both of you?"

"No. He's going now."

Miss Pinnegar came downstairs again, and went through to the
scullery. When Alvina came down, she returned to the living room.

"Give this letter to Madame," Alvina said to Ciccio. "I shall be at
the hall by seven tonight. I shall go straight there."

"Why can't you come now?" said Ciccio.

"I can't possibly," said Alvina. "The lawyer has just told me
father's debts come to much more than everything is worth. Nothing
is ours--not even the plate you're eating from. Everything is under
seal to be sold to pay off what is owing. So I've got to get my own
clothes and boots together, or they'll be sold with the rest. Mr.
Beeby wants you to go round at seven this evening, Miss
Pinnegar--before I forget."

"Really!" gasped Miss Pinnegar. "Really! The house and the furniture
and everything got to be sold up? Then we're on the streets! I can't
believe it."

"So he told me," said Alvina.

"But how positively awful," said Miss Pinnegar, sinking motionless
into a chair.

"It's not more than I expected," said Alvina. "I'm putting my things
into my two trunks, and I shall just ask Mrs. Slaney to store them
for me. Then I've the bag I shall travel with."

"Really!" gasped Miss Pinnegar. "I can't believe it! And when have
we got to get out?"

"Oh, I don't think there's a desperate hurry. They'll take an
inventory of all the things, and we can live on here till they're
actually ready for the sale."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know. A week or two."

"And is the cinematograph to be sold the same?"

"Yes--everything! The piano--even mother's portrait--"

"It's impossible to believe it," said Miss Pinnegar. "It's
impossible. He can never have left things so bad."

"Ciccio," said Alvina. "You'll really have to go if you are to catch
the train. You'll give Madame my letter, won't you? I should hate
you to miss the train. I know she can't bear me already, for all the
fuss and upset I cause."

Ciccio rose slowly, wiping his mouth.

"You'll be there at seven o'clock?" he said.

"At the theatre," she replied.

And without more ado, he left.

Mrs. Rollings came in.

"You've heard?" said Miss Pinnegar dramatically.

"I heard somethink," said Mrs. Rollings.

"Sold up! Everything to be sold up. Every stick and rag! I never
thought I sh