wrought so upon her pity, and teased her so,
that to get rid of his importunity she married
him. In time she learned to love him ten times
better than if she had begun all flames. Uncle
and aunt cut her tolerably dead for some years;
Uncle came round the first; some antiquarian
showed him that Dodd was a much more ancient
family than Talboys. "Why, sir, they were lords
of sixteen manors under the Heptarchy, and hold
some of them to this day." Mrs. Bazalgette,
too, had long corresponded with her periodically,
and on friendly terms.

The answers came on the same day, curiously
enough. Uncle Fountain, ruined by railway
speculation, was living on an allowance from
creditors; but his house was at their service if
they liked to live with him—and board themselves.

Mrs. Bazalgette's was the letter of a smooth
woman, who has hoarded imperishable spite. She
reminded her niece after all these years, that
her marriage with David was an act of disobedience
and ingratitude. She then enumerated
her own heavy expenses, all but the £400 a year
she spent in bedizening her carcase, and finally,
amidst a multitude of petty insults, she offered
to relieve Mrs. Dodd of——Julia. Now Poetry
has reconciled us to an asp in a basket of figs;
but here was a scorpion in a bundle of nettles.
Poor Mrs. Dodd could not speak after reading
it. She handed it to Edward, and laid her white
forehead wearily in her hand. Edward put the
letter in an envelope, and sent it back with a line
in his own hand declining all correspondence
with the writer.

"Now then, dears," said he, "don't be cast
down. Let this be a warning to us, never to ask
favours of anybody. Let us look the thing in
the face; we must work or starve: and all the
better for us. Hard work suits heavy hearts.
Come, have you any plan?"

"To be sure we have," said Julia eagerly.
"I mean to go for a governess, and then I shall
cost mamma nothing, and besides I can send her
the money the people give me."

"A pretty plan!" said Edward sadly; "what,
we three part company? Don't you feel lonely
enough without that? I do, then. How can we
bear our burdens at all, if we are not to be all
together to cheer one another along the weary
road? What, are we to break up? Is it not
enough to be bereaved?"

He could say no more for the emotion his own
words caused him; he broke down altogether,
and ran out of the room.

However, he came back in an hour with his
eyes red, but his heart indomitable; determined
to play a man's part for all their sakes.
"You ladies," said he, with something of his
old genial way, that sounded so strange to one
looking at his red eyes, and inspired a desire to
hug him, "are full of talent, but empty of invention.
The moment you are ruined, or that sort
of thing, it is go for a governess, go for a
companion, go here, go there, in search of what?
Independence? No; Dependence. Besides, all
this going is bosh. Families are strong if they
stick together, and if they go to pieces they are
weak. I learned one bit of sense out of that
mass of folly they call antiquity; and that was
the story of the old bloke with his twelve sons,
and fagot to match. 'Break 'em apart,' he said;
and each son broke his stick as easy as shelling
peas. 'Now break the twelve all tied together:'
devil a bit could the duffers break it then. Now
we are not twelve, we are but three; easy to
break one or two of us apart, but not the lot
together. No: nothing but death shall break
this fagot, for nothing less shall part us three."

He stood like a Colossus, and held out his
hands to them; they clung round his neck in a
moment, as if to illustrate his words; clung
tight, and blessed him for standing so firm and
forbidding them to part.

Mrs. Dodd sighed, after the first burst of
enthusiastic affection, and said: "If he would
only go a step further and tell us what to do in
company."

"Ay, there it is," said Julia. "Begin with me.
What can I do?"

"Why, paint."

"What, to sell? Oh dear, my daubs are not
good enough for that."

"Stuff! Nothing is too bad to sell."

"I really think you might," said Mrs. Dodd;
"and I will help you."

"No, no, mamma, I want you for something
better than the fine arts. You must go in one
of the great grooves: Female vanity: you must
be a dressmaker; you are a genius at it."

"My mamma a dressmaker," cried Julia:
"oh, Edward, how can you? how dare you?
poor, poor mamma!"

"Don't be so impetuous, dear. I think he is
right: yes, it is all I am fit for. If ever there
was a Heaven-born dressmaker, it's me."

"As for myself," said Edward, "I shall look
out for some business in which physical strength
goes further than intellectual attainments.
Luckily there are plenty such. Breaking stones
is one. But I shall try a few others first."

It is easy to settle on a business, hard to get
a footing in one. Edward, convinced that the
dressmaking was their best card, searched that
mine of various knowledge, the 'Tiser, for an
opening: but none came. At last one of those
great miscellaneous houses in the City advertised
for a lady to cut cloaks. He proposed to his
mother to go with him. She shrank from
encountering strangers. No, she would go to a
fashionable dressmaker she had employed some
years, and ask her advice. Perhaps Madame
Blanch would find her something to do. "I have
more faith in the 'Tiser," said Edward, clinging
to his idol.

Mrs. Dodd found Madame Blanch occupied
in trying to suit one of those heart-breaking
idiots, to whom dress is the one great thing, and
all things else, sin included, the little ones. She
had tried on a scarf three times; and it