t, although their
income was small, at least they owed nothing. Percival's heart ached as
he pictured Judith's start of surprise when Emma carried in the open
paper, her brave smile, her hurried assurance that it was all right, and
Lydia laughing outside at the thought of more to come. "She'll pay them
all," said Percival to himself. "She won't take a farthing of that
girl's money. She'll die sooner than not pay them, but I incline to
think she won't pay this one." His mind was made up long before he
reached Bellevue street. If by any sacrifice of pride or comfort he
could keep the privilege of helping Judith altogether to himself, he
would do so. If that were impossible he would get the money from Godfrey
Hammond. But he felt doubtful whether he should like Godfrey Hammond
quite as well when he should have asked and received this service at his
hands. "I ought to like him all the better if he helped her when I
couldn't manage it. It would be abominably unjust if I didn't. In fact,
I _must_ like him all the better for it: it stands to reason I must.
I'll be shot if I should, though! and I don't much think I could ever
forgive him."

Percival found that the debt was a small one, and calculated that by a
miracle of economy he might pay it out of his salary at the end of the
week. Consequently, he dined out two or three days: at least he did not
dine at home; but his dissipation did not seem to agree with him, for he
looked white and tired. Luckily, he had not to pay for his lodgings till
Mrs. Bryant came back, and he sincerely hoped that the good lady would
be happy with her sister, Mrs. Smith, till his finances were in better
order. When he got his money he lost no time in settling Mr. Robinson's
little account, and was fortunate enough to intercept another, about
which Mr. Brett the tailor was growing seriously uneasy. He would not
for the world have parted with the precious document, but he began to
wonder how he should extricate himself from his growing embarrassments.
Lydia--half suspicious, half laughing--made a remark about his
continual absence from home. "You are getting to be very gay, ain't you,
Mr. Thorne?" she said; and she pulled her curl with her old liveliness,
and watched him while she spoke.

"Well, rather so: it does seem like it," he allowed.

"I think you'll be getting too fine for Bellevue street," said the girl:
"I'm afraid we ain't scarcely smart enough for you already."

Had she any idea how m