the only gleam of hope in the letter. Fanny answered it,
giving Arthur an account of the misfortune which had befallen her
father. Although she gave him the number of the new lodging into which
they moved when her father's shop was closed, she received no reply.
She had hoped soon to have some cheering word from him, but none came.
She could not understand his silence. This, in addition to her other
troubles, seemed more than she could bear.

Since the auction Rumble had not been a well man. His nerves at that
time had received a shock from which he had not recovered.

Between nursing her father, and earning what little she could by
sewing, Fanny had a hard time. The pittance she got for her work did
not go far toward meeting their expenses. Rumble had given up his shop
in the early autumn, and the little money he had saved from the wreck
had disappeared when winter set in. At last it became necessary to
pawn some of their household goods. Fanny would not let her father go
the pawnbroker's, but went herself. When she returned, and showed him
the little money she had obtained on the articles she had pledged, he
said:

"Why, I would have given twice as much."

"Yes, father," answered Fanny, "but all pawnbrokers are not like
you."

"No, no," muttered the old man. "If they were they would be poor like
me."

Although Rumble was not able to work, he was always talking of what he
would do when he felt a little stronger. He worried continually
because he was dependent upon his daughter, and every time she went to
the pawnbroker's he had a fit of melancholy.

At last, just before Christmas, he became seriously ill. The doctor,
whom Fanny called in, said he had brain fever, and gave her little
hope of his recovery. His mind wandered, and seemed to go back to the
auction, of which he spoke almost constantly. Many times he repeated
the words of the auctioneer, that had made such a deep impression on
him: "Going--going--gone!"

It was a gloomy Christmas for Fanny, and when New Year's eve came she
was still watching by the bedside of her father, whose fever had
reached its crisis.

Her thoughts went back to another New Year's eve, when Arthur Maxwell
had told her of his plans for the future. And it had been so long
since she had heard from him!

She had to get some medicine which the doctor had ordered, and while
her father slept, asking an acquaintance who lodged on the same floor
to watch over him, she went out, takin