sbury. It is
easy enough."

"Yes," he answered. "It is easy enough with a nurse like you."

But in order to carry out the treatment some things had to be bought,
and this led to the discovery which was a shock to Beth. Arthur's
income depended principally upon the pictures he sold, and no more
money came in after he fell ill. He had had some by him, but not
nearly so much as he supposed, and it was all gone now, in spite of
the utmost economy on Beth's part. Her own, too, was running short,
but she had not troubled about that, because she still had some of her
secret hoard to fall back upon. She had left it in one of the boxes
which were sent on after her from Slane--a box which she had not
opened until now, when she wanted the money. The money, however, was
not there. She searched and searched, but in vain; all she found was
the little bag that had contained it. She was stunned by the
discovery, and sat on the floor for a little, with the contents of the
box all scattered about her, trying to account for her loss. Then all
at once a vision of Maclure, as she had seen him on one occasion with
the bunch of duplicate keys, peering into her dress-basket with horrid
intentness, flashed before her; but she banished it resolutely with
the inevitable conclusion to which it pointed. She would not allow her
mind to be sullied by such a suspicion. And as to the money, since it
was lost, why should she waste her time worrying about it? She had
better set herself to consider how to procure some more. She had still
some of Arthur Brock's, but that she kept that she might be able to
tell him truthfully that it was not all done when he asked about it--a
pious fraud which relieved his mind and kept him from retarding his
recovery by attempting to begin work again before he was fit for it.
What money she had of her own would last but a little longer, and how
to get more was the puzzle.

Her evening dresses had been in the box which she had just unpacked,
and while she was still sitting on the floor amongst them cogitating,
Ethel Maud Mary came into the attic out of breath to ask how she was
getting on.

"Why," she exclaimed in admiration of Beth's finery, "you've got some
clothes! They'd fetch something, those frocks, if you sold them."

"Then tell me where to sell them, for money I must have," Beth
rejoined precipitately.

"And it's no use keeping gowns; they only go out of fashion," Ethel
Maud Mary suggested, as if she thought