Kitabı oku: «Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles», sayfa 7

CHAPTER XIII.
ILLNESS

For nine weeks Mr. Halliburton never left his bed. His wife was worn to a shadow; what with waiting upon him, and battling with her anxiety. Her body was weary, her heart was sick. Do you know the cost of illness? Jane knew it then.

In two weeks more he could leave his easy-chair and crawl about the room; and by that time he was all eagerness to commence his operations for the future.

"I must have some cards printed, Jane," he cried, one morning. "'Mr. Halliburton, Professor of Classics and Mathematics, late of King's Col—'—or should it be simply 'Edgar Halliburton?'" he broke off, to deliberate. "I wonder what the custom may be, down here?"

"I think you should wait until you are stronger, before you order your cards," was Jane's reply.

"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been—how many weeks is it now?"

"Eleven."

"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"

"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."

"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed, after an interval of silence. "And—I wonder if people will want references? Jane"—after another silence—"you must put your things on, and go to Mrs. Dare's."

"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."

"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."

Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.

It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house, inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.

"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"

"What name, ma'am?"

Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come. She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.

"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.

Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.

Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.

A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.

Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand; and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say you are his wife?"

"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.

"What is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"

"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the ground again—why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons for settling in Helstonleigh.

"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."

Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He knows that Mr. Peach will–"

"No," interrupted Mrs. Dare, in decisive tones. "For Edgar Halliburton's own sake I must decline to recommend him; or, indeed, to interfere at all. It would only encourage fallacious hopes. Masters are here in abundance—I speak of private masters; they don't find half enough to do. Schools are also plentiful. The best thing will be to go to some place where there is a better opening, and not to settle himself here at all!"

"But we have already settled here," replied Jane.

A thought suddenly struck Mrs. Dare. "It can never be Edgar who has taken Mr. Ashley's cottage in the London Road? I remember the name was said to be Halliburton."

"The same. It was let to us by Mr. Dare's clerk."

Mrs. Dare sat biting her lips. That she was grievously annoyed was evident, but in deference to good manners, which were partially returning to her, she strove to repress its signs. "I presume your husband is poor, Mrs. Halliburton?"

"We are very poor."

"It is generally the case with teachers, as I have observed. Well, I can only give one answer to your application—that we must decline all interference. I hope Edgar will not think of applying again to us upon the subject."

Jane rose. Mrs. Dare remained seated. And yet she prided herself upon her good breeding!

"I had forgotten a question which my husband particularly desired me to ask," Jane said, turning back, as she was moving to the door. "Edgar saw by the papers that his uncle, Mr. Cooper, died the beginning of the year. Did he remember him on his death-bed, so far as to send a message of reconciliation?"

Strange to say, the countenance of Mrs. Dare again changed; now to a burning heat, now to a livid pallor. She hesitated in her answer.

"Yes," she said at length. "Mr. Cooper so far relented as to send him his forgiveness. 'Tell my nephew Edgar, if you ever see him, that I am sorry for my harshness; that I would treat him differently were the time to come over again.' I do not remember the precise words; but they were to that effect. There is no doubt that he would have wished to be reconciled; but time did not allow it. I should have written to Edgar of this, had I been acquainted with his address."

"A letter addressed to King's College would always have found him. But he will be glad to hear this. He also bade me ask how Mr. Cooper's money was left—if you would kindly give him the information."

Mrs. Dare bent her head. She was busy playing with her bracelet. "The will was proved in Doctors' Commons. Edgar Halliburton may see it by paying a shilling there."

It was not a gracious answer, and Jane paused. "He cannot go to Doctors' Commons; he is not in London," she gently said.

Mrs. Dare raised her head. A look, speaking plainly of defiance, had settled itself on her features. "It was left to me; the whole of it, except a few trifling legacies to his servants. What could Edgar Halliburton expect?"

"I am sure that he did not expect anything," observed Jane. "Though I believe a hope has sometimes crossed his mind that Mr. Cooper might at the last relent, and remember him."

"Nay," said Mrs. Dare, "he had behaved too disobediently for that. First, in opposing his uncle's wishes that he should enter into business; secondly, in his marriage."

"In his marriage!" echoed Jane, a flush rising to her own face.

"It was so. Mr. Cooper was exceedingly exasperated when he heard that Edgar had married. He looked upon the marriage, I believe, as undesirable for him in a pecuniary point of view. You must pardon my speaking of this to you personally. You appear to wish for the truth."

The flush on Jane's face deepened to crimson.

"It is true that I had no money," she said. "But I am the daughter of a clergyman, and was reared a gentlewoman!"

"I suppose my uncle thought Edgar Halliburton should have married a fortune. However all that is past and gone, and it will do no good to recall it. I am sorry that you should have been so ill-advised for your own interests as to fix on this place to come to."

Mrs. Dare rose. She had sat all this time; Jane had stood. "Tell Edgar, from me, that I am sorry to hear of his illness. Tell him there is no possible chance of success for him in Helstonleigh; no opening whatever! When I say that I hope he will speedily remove to some place less overdone with masters, I speak only in his own interest!"

She rang the bell as she spoke, and gave Jane the tips of two of her fingers. The footman held open the hall door, and bowed her out. Jane went down the gravel sweep, determined never again to trouble Mrs. Dare.

"Joseph!" cried Mrs. Dare, sharply.

"Ma'am?"

"Should that lady ever call again, I am not at home, remember!"

"Very well, ma'am," was the man's reply.

Mrs. Dare did not stay to hear it. She had flown upstairs to her room in trepidation. There she attired herself hastily and went out, bending her steps towards Mr. Dare's office. It was situated at the end of the town; and the door displayed a brass plate: "Mr. Dare, Solicitor."

Mrs. Dare entered the outer room. "Is Mr. Dare alone?" she asked of the clerks.

"No, ma'am. Mr. Ashley is with him."

Chafing at the answer, for she was in a mood of great impatience, of inward tremor, Mrs. Dare waited for a few minutes. Mr. Ashley came out. A man of nearly forty years, rather above the middle height, with a fresh complexion, dark eyes, and well-formed features. A benevolent-looking, good man. His wife was a cousin of Mr. Dare's.

Mr. Dare was seated at his table in his own room when his wife came in. She had turned again of an ashy paleness, and she dropped into a chair near to him.

"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you ill?"

"I think I shall die," she gasped. "I have had a mortal fright, Anthony."

Mr. Dare rose. He was about to get her some water, or to call for it, but she caught his arm. "Stay, and hear me! Stay! Anthony, those Halliburtons have come to Helstonleigh. Come to live here!"

Mr. Dare's mouth opened. "What Halliburtons?" he presently asked.

"They. He has come here to settle. He wants to teach; and his wife has been with me, asking us to be referees. Of course I put the stopper upon that. The idea of our having poor relations in the town who get their living by teaching!"

A very disagreeable idea indeed; for those who were playing first fiddle in the place, and expected to play it still. But not for that did the man and wife stand gazing at each other; and the naturally bold look on Mr. Dare's face had faded considerably just then.

"She asked about the will," said Mrs. Dare, dropping her voice to a whisper, and looking round with a shiver. "I thought I should have died with fear."

Mr. Dare rallied his courage. Any little reminiscence that may have momentarily disturbed his equanimity he shook off, and was his own bold self again.

"Nonsense, Julia! What is there to fear? The will is proved and acted upon. Whatever the old man may have uttered to us in his death ramblings was heard by ourselves alone. If any one had heard it, I should not much care. A will's a will all the world over; and to act against it would be illegal."

Mrs. Dare sat wiping her brow and gathering up her courage. It came back by slow degrees.

"Anthony, we must get them out of Helstonleigh. For more reasons than one we must get them out. They are in that house of Mr. Ashley's."

He looked surprised. "They! Ay, to be sure: the name in the books is Halliburton. It never occurred to me that it could be they. I wonder if they are poor?"

"Very poor, the wife said."

"Just so," said Mr. Dare, with a pleasant smile. "I'll not ask for the rent this quarter, but let it go on a bit. We may get them out, Mrs. Dare."

You need not be told that Anthony Dare and his wife had omitted to act upon Mr. Cooper's dying injunction. At the time they did really intend to fulfil it; they were not thieves or forgers. But Edgar Halliburton was not present to remind them of his claims: and, when the money came to be realised, to be in their own hands, there it was suffered to remain. Waiting for him, of course; they did not know precisely where to find him, and did not take any trouble to inquire. Very tempting and useful they found the money. A large portion of their own share went in paying back debts, for they lived at an extravagant rate; and—and in short they had intrenched upon that other share, and could not now have paid it over had they been ever so willing to do so. No wonder that Mrs. Dare had felt as one in mortal fear when she met Jane Halliburton face to face!

CHAPTER XIV.
A CHRISTMAS DREAM

Winter had come to Helstonleigh: frost hovered in the air and rested on the ground. How was Mr. Halliburton? He had never once been out since his illness, and he sat by the fire when he did not lie in bed, and his cough was racking him. He might, and probably would, have recovered health under more favourable auspices, but anxiety of mind was killing him. Their money was dwindling to a close, and delicacies they dared not get for him. Mr. Halliburton would say he did not require them; could not eat them if they were procured. Poor man! he craved for them in his inmost heart. Strange to say, he did not see his own danger. Or, rather, it would have been strange but that similar cases are met with every day. "When this cold weather has passed, and spring is in, then I shall get up my strength," was his constant cry. "Then I shall set about my work in earnest, and make my arrival and my plans known to Peach. It has been of no use troubling him beforehand." False, false hopes! fond, delusive hopes!

Dr. Carrington had said that if he took care of himself, he might live and be well. The other doctors had said the same. And there was no reason to doubt their judgment. But they had not bargained for an attack of rheumatic fever, or for the increased injury to the lungs which the same cause, that past soaking, had induced.

On Christmas Eve, he and Jane were sitting over the fire in the twilight. He could come downstairs now; indeed, he did not appear to be so ill as he really was. The surgeon who attended him in the fever had been discharged long ago. "There's nothing the matter with me now but debility; and, only time will bring me out of that," Mr. Halliburton said, when he dismissed him. Jane was hopeful; more hopeful by fits and starts than continuously so; but she did really believe he might get well when winter had passed. They were sitting beside the fire, when a great bustle interrupted them. All the children trooped in at once, with the noise it is the delight of children not to stir without. Frank, who had been out, had entered the house with his arms full of holly and ivy, his bright face glowing with excitement. The others were attending him to show off the prize.

"Look at all this Christmas, mamma!" cried he. "I have bought it."

"Bought it?" repeated Jane. "My dear Frank, did I not tell you we must do without Christmas this year?"

"But it cost nothing, mamma. Only a penny!"

Jane sighed. She did not say to the children that even a penny was no longer "nothing."

"You know that penny I have kept in my pocket a long while," went on Frank in excitement, addressing the assemblage. "Well, I thought if mamma would not buy some Christmas, I would."

"But you did not buy all that for a penny, Frank? We should pay sixpence for it in London."

"I did, though, mamma. I had it of that old man who lives in the cottage higher up the road, with the big garden to it. He was going to cut me more, but I told him this was plenty. You should have seen the heaps he gave a woman for twopence: she wanted a wheelbarrow to carry it away."

Janey clapped her hands, and began to dance. "I shall help you to dress the rooms! We must have a merry Christmas!"

Mr. Halliburton drew her to him. "Yes, we must have a merry Christmas, must we not, Janey? Jane"—turning to his wife—"can you manage to have a nice dinner for us? Christmas only comes once a year."

He looked up with his haggard face: very much as though he were longing for a nice dinner then.

"I will see what I can do," said Jane in reply, smothering down another sigh. "I am going out presently to the butcher's. A joint of beef will be best; and though the pudding's a plain one, I hope it will be good. Yes, we must keep Christmas."

Christmas-day dawned, and in due time they assembled as usual. Jane intended to go to church that day. During her husband's illness she had been obliged to send the children alone. They had been trained to know what church meant, and did not require some one with them to keep them in order there. A good thing if the same could be said of all children!

It was a clear, bright morning, cold and frosty. Mr. Halliburton came down just as they were starting.

"I feel so much better to-day!" he exclaimed. "I could almost go with you myself. Jane"—smiling at her look of consternation—"you need not be startled: I do not intend to attempt it. William, you are not ready."

"Mamma said I was to stay with you, papa."

"Stay with me! There's not the least necessity for that. I tell you all I am feeling better to-day—quite well. You can go with the rest, William."

William looked at his mother, and for a moment Jane hesitated. Only for a moment. "I would rather he remained, Edgar," she said. "Betsy will be gone by twelve o'clock. Indeed, I should not feel comfortable at the thought of your being alone."

"Oh, very well," replied Mr. Halliburton, quite gaily. "I suppose you must remain, William, or we shall have mamma leaving when the service is only half over to see whether I have not fallen into the fire."

Jane had all the household care upon her shoulders now, and a great portion of the household work. Though an active domestic manager, she had known nothing practically of the more menial work of a house; she knew it only too well now. The old saying is a very true one: "Necessity makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." This young girl, Betsy, who came in part of each day to assist, was almost as much trouble as profit. She had said to Jane on Christmas Eve: "If you please, mother says I am to be at home to-morrow, if it's convenient." I am! However, Jane and the young lady came to a compromise. She was to go home at twelve and come back later to wash up the dishes. Of course it entailed upon Jane all the trouble of preparing dinner.

Have you ever known one of these cases yourself? Where a lady—a lady, mind you, as Jane was—has had to put aside her habits of refinement, pin up her gown, and turn to and cook; roast the meat and boil potatoes, and all the ether essential items? Many a one is doing it now in real life. Jane Halliburton was not a solitary example. The pudding had been made the day before and partly boiled: it was now on the fire, boiling again, and the rest of the dinner she would do on her return from church.

It was something wonderful, the improvement in Mr. Halliburton's health that day. He took his part with William in reading the psalms and lessons while the rest were at church: it was what he had been unable to do for a long time in consequence of his cough and laboured breathing. The duty over, he lay back in his chair; in thought apparently, not exhaustion.

"Peace on earth, and good will towards men!" he repeated presently, in a fervent, but somewhat absent tone. "William, my boy, I think peace must be coming to me at last. I do feel so well."

"What peace, papa?" asked William, puzzled.

"The peace of renewed health, of hope; freedom from worry. The Christmas season and the bright day have taken away all my despondency. Let me go on like this, and in another month I shall be out and at work."

William's eyes sparkled. He fully believed it all. Boys are sanguine.

They were to dine at three o'clock, and Jane did her best to prepare it. During the process, Patience appeared at the back door with a plate of oranges. "Will thee accept of these for thy children?" asked she.

"How kind you are!" exclaimed Jane, in a grateful impulse, as she thought of her children. Of such little treats they had latterly enjoyed a scanty share. "Patience, I hope you did not buy them purposely?"

"Had I had to buy them, thee would not have seen them," returned the candid Quakeress. "A friend of Samuel Lynn's, who lives at Bristol, sends us a small case every winter. When I was unpacking it this morning I said to him, 'The young ones at the next door would be pleased with a few of these'; but he did not answer. Thee must not think him selfish; he is not a selfish man; but he cannot bear to see anything go beside the child. Anna looked at him eagerly; she would have been pleased to send half the box: and he saw it. 'Take in a few, Patience,' he cried."

"I am much obliged to him, and to you also," repeated Jane. "Patience, Mr. Halliburton is so much better to-day! Go in, and see him."

Patience went into the parlour, carrying the oranges with her. When she came out again there was a grave expression on her serene face.

"Thee will do well not to count upon this apparent improvement in thy husband."

Jane's heart went down considerably. "I do not exactly count upon it, Patience," she confessed; "but he does seem to have changed so much for the better that I feel in greater spirits than I have felt this many a day. His cough seems almost well."

"I do not wish to throw a damp upon thee; still, were I thee, I would not reckon upon it. These sudden improvements sometimes turn out to have been deceitful. Fare thee well!"

Jane went into the parlour. The children were gathered round the plate of oranges. "Mamma, do look!" cried Janey. "Are they not good? There are six: one apiece for us all. I wonder if papa could eat one? Gar, you are not to touch. Papa, could you eat an orange?"

Unseen by the children, Mr. Halliburton had been straining his eager gaze upon the oranges. His mouth parched with inward fever, his throat dry, they appeared, coming thus unexpectedly before him, what the long-wished-for spring of water is to the fainting traveller in the desert. Jane caught the look, and handed the plate to him. "You would like one, Edgar?"

"I am thirsty," he said, in tones savouring of apology, for the oranges seemed to belong to the children rather than to him. "I think I must eat mine before dinner. Cut it into four, will you?"

He took up one of the quarters. "It is delicious!" he exclaimed. "It is so refreshing!"

The children stood around and watched him. They enjoyed oranges, but scarcely with a zest so intense as that.

When Jane returned to the kitchen, she found a helpmate. The maid from next door, Grace, a young Quakeress, fair and demure, was standing there. She had been sent by Patience to do what she could for half an hour. "How considerate she is!" thought grateful Jane.

They dined in comfort, Grace waiting on them. Afterwards the oranges were placed upon the table. Master Gar caught up the plate, and presented it to his mother. "Papa has had his," quoth he.

"Not for me, Gar," said Jane. "I do not eat oranges. I will give mine to papa."

The three younger children speedily attacked theirs. William did not. He left his by the side of the one rejected by his mother, and set the plate by Mr. Halliburton.

"Do you intend these for me, William?"

"Yes, papa."

Frank looked surprised. "William, you don't mean to say you are not going to eat your orange? Why, you were as glad as any of us when they came."

"I eat oranges when I want them," observed William, with an affectation of carelessness, which betrayed a delicacy of feeling that might have done honour to one older than he. "I have had too good a dinner to care about oranges."

Mr. Halliburton drew William towards him, and looked steadfastly into his face with a meaning smile. "Thank you, my darling," he whispered: and William coloured excessively as he sat down.

Mr. Halliburton ate the oranges, and appeared as if he could have eaten as many more. Then he leaned his head back on the pillow which was placed over his chair, and presently fell asleep.

"Be very still, dear children," whispered Jane.

They looked round, saw why they were to be still, and hushed their busy voices. William pulled a stool to his mother's feet, and took his seat on it, holding her hand between his.

"Papa will soon be well again now," he softly said. "Don't you think so, mamma?"

"Indeed I hope he will," she answered.

"But don't you think it?" he persisted; and Jane detected an anxiety in his tone. Could there have been a shadow of fear upon the boy's own heart? "He said mamma, whilst you were at church, that in another month he should be strong again."

"Not quite so soon as that, I fear, William. He has been so much reduced, you know. Later: if he goes on as well as he appears to be going on now."

Jane set the children to that renowned game. "Cross questions and crooked answers." You may have had the pleasure of playing it: if so, you will remember that it consists chiefly of whispering. It is difficult to keep children quiet long together.

"Where am I?" cried a sudden voice, startling the children in the midst of their silent whispers.

It came from Mr. Halliburton. He had slept about half an hour, and was now looking round in bewilderment, his head starting away from the pillow. "Where am I?" he repeated.

"You have been asleep, papa," cried Frank.

"Asleep! Oh, yes! I remember. You are all here, and it is Christmas Day. I have been dreaming."

"What about, papa?"

Mr. Halliburton let his head fall back on the pillow again. He fixed his eyes on vacancy, and there ensued a silence. The children looked at him.

"Singular things are dreams," he presently exclaimed. "I thought I was on a broad, wide road—an immense road, and it was crowded with people. We were all going one way, stumbling and tripping along–"

"What made you stumble, papa?" interrupted Janey, whose busy tongue was ever ready to talk.

"The road was full of impediments," continued Mr. Halliburton, in a dreamy tone, as if his mental vision were buried in the scene and he was relating what had actually occurred. "Stones, and hillocks, and brambles, and pools of shallow water, and long grass that got entangled round our feet: nothing but difficulties and hindrances. At the end, in the horizon, as far as the eye could reach—very, very far away indeed—a hundred times as far away as the Malvern Hills appear to be from us—there shone a brilliant light. So brilliant! You have never seen anything like it in life, for the naked eye could not bear such light. And yet we seemed to look at it, and our sight was not dazzled!"

"Perhaps it was fireworks?" interrupted Gar. Mr. Halliburton went on without heeding him.

"We were all pressing on to get to the light, though the distant journey seemed as if it could never end. So long as we kept our eyes fixed on the light, we could see how we walked, and we passed over the rough places without fear. Not without difficulty. But still we did pass them, and advanced. But the moment we took our eyes from the light, then we were stopped; some fell; some wandered aside, and would not try to go forward; some were torn by the brambles; some fell into the water; some stuck in the mud; in short, they could not get on any way. And yet they knew—at least, it seemed that they knew—that if they would only lift their eyes to the light, and keep them steadfastly on it, they were certain to be helped, and to make progress. The few who did keep their eyes on it—very few they were!—steadily bore onwards. The same hindrances, the same difficulties were in their path, so that at times they also felt tempted to despair—to fear they could not get on. But their fears were groundless. So long as they did not take their eyes from the light, it guided them in certainty and safety over the rough places. It was a helper that could not fail; and it was ready to guide every one—all those millions and millions of travellers. To guide them throughout the whole of the way until they had gained it."

The children had become interested and were listening with hushed lips. "Why did they not all let it guide them?" breathlessly asked William. "Nothing can be more easy than to keep our eyes on a light that does not dazzle. What did you do, papa?"

"It seemed that the light would only shine on one step at a time," continued Mr. Halliburton, not in answer to William, but evidently absorbed in his own thoughts. "We could not see further than the one step, but that was sufficient; for the moment we had taken it, then the light shone upon another. And so we passed on, progressing to the end, the light seeming brighter and brighter as we drew near to it."

"Did you get to it, papa?"

"I am trying to recollect, William. I seemed to be quite close to it. I suppose I awoke then."

Mr. Halliburton paused, still in thought: but he said no more. Presently he turned to his wife. "Is it nearly tea-time, Jane? I cannot think what makes me so thirsty."

"We can have tea now, if you like," she replied. "I will go and see about it."

She left the room, and Janey ran after her. In the kitchen, making a great show and parade of being at work amidst plates and dishes, was a damsel of fifteen, her hair curiously twisted about her head, and her round, green eyes wide open. It was Betsy.

"That was good pudding," cried she, turning her face to Mrs. Halliburton. "Better than mother's."

She alluded to a slice which had been given her. Jane smiled. "We want tea, Betsy."

"Have it in directly, mum," was Miss Betsy's acquiescent response.

Scarcely were the words spoken, when a commotion was heard in the sitting-room. The door was flung open, and the boys called out, the tone of their voices one of utter alarm. Jane, the child, and the maid, made but one step to the room. All Jane's fears had flown to "fire."