"It is not mine," said Mrs. Broughton. "I
am as poor as I ever was, and poorer. If you
want anything, you must ask Laura there— it is
all hers."

"Fact? Seems strange, too! I should have
thought that my pretty niece would have taken
better care of her mother than that."

"It is not mine, it is my husband's," said
Laura, scarlet to her very neck.

"I always thought that was much the same
thing," observed Sam.

"It ought to be," returned Mrs. Broughton,
with the air of a clincher.

"But it is not," said Laura, a little faintly;
"and, considering that I have nothing of my
own, ought not to be so in our case."

"Oh! Gordon is very generous, that I will
say for him," said Mrs. Broughton, twisting
her bracelet; " and doesn't make much fuss with
the bills."

"He always looks at them, and checks my
money," Laura answered. Then, with a burst
— "And I could not give any away without his
permission."

Sam and Mrs. Broughton looked at each
other.

"Oh yes you could, dear!" said her mother,
gently. "Nothing more easy. Now, Laura
love," she went on coaxingly, "the truth is,
you must help your uncle out of a little difficulty.
He wants money, and you must supply
him with what you. have. How much will do,
Sam? A couple of sovereigns? Yes, a couple.
I know that Gordon gave you five only yesterday.
You must be a good and kind girl and
save your poor uncle from a very painful
position. Your own dear papa's brother, Laura—
think of that!"

"I would give all I had of my own," said
Laura, "but I cannot give away what is
Gordon's."

"Nonsense! you can make it up again— I
will give it you again, if that is all. Laura, you
must. It is not often that I beg of my own
child, but I do beg of you now! Will you not do
your own poor mother a favour, Lalla? Your
mother who has always loved you so fondly!
Will you not— for her sake, mind— help your
dear father's brother from starvation? A
kind good fellow as he is at heart, and no
one's enemy but his own. Don't I know my
little pet, and that she will be loving and
generous?"

"I would if it were my own," again said
Laura, troubled. "But would it be honourable?"

"Am I no judge of right and wrong, my
dear?" said Mrs. Broughton, with touching
humility of voice. "If I see no harm in it,
need you? Am I to be taught truth and
honour by my own child, Lal?"

"Yes, mamma, I know— I didn't mean
that—-" began Laura.

"Oh yes you did, dear!" and the mother
wiped her very blue eyes, and made the eyelids
red. "And you have been very much altered to
me since you married; and I'm sure I love you
still the same, and would be all to you a mother
could be!"

"Oh, mamma! don't say that!" Laura
threw her arms round her neck, and sobbed.

"I should be sorry to be the cause of any
trouble here," then said Sam, coming forward:
"so let me go. I have only one resource,"
with a desperate cast of his hard black eyes
upward, and a clenching of his hairy hand against
his breast, and a setting of his teeth, and the
hard sucking in of the breath through them—
"only one: the poison or the knife! What
matters?" more softly. "Who will miss me? a
good-for-nothing vagabond like me— let him
go!"

Mrs. Broughton gave a faint kind of howl,
and squinted out of the corners of her eyes.
Laura sobbed piteously. "I will tell Gordon
all, and I am sure he will not mind," she then
said, and drew out her purse— her new brown
Russia leather purse which Gordon had given
her specially for the housekeeping funds— and
gave him the two pounds.

"God bless you, sweet child!" said the mother,
kissing her.

"God bless you, my angel!" said the uncle,
kissing her too; and Laura's tender heart glowed,
and her soft brown eyes rained over with love
and happiness.

In the midst of which came Gordon's well-
known military knock at the door, and sobered
Sam and his sister like a jug of cold water
dashed into their faces.

"Go away! go away, you wretch!" said
Mrs. Broughton, with sudden savageness,
shuffling him out of the room. "I will murder
you if ever you play me this trick again," she
whispered, as she pushed him through the doorway.

"Who was that?" asked Gordon, striding
into the room with his usual long commanding
step slightly quickened.

"Oh, it was my—-" began Laura.

"The laundress man," interposed Mrs.
Broughtou, briskly. "Fancy a man-washerwoman,
how absurd!— who came here with a
pitiful tale of distress, and your good wife here
lent him a sovereign. She's a tender-hearted
little thing, Gordon, and you will have to take
care of that in her; but I felt sure you would
not be angry, so I did not check her this time.
He is not angry with you, dear; I said he would
not be! and then, you know, it is only lent, and
will be made up by degrees in the washing,
so no harm is done, is there? You dear old
fellow!" and Mrs. Broughton kissed her tall
son-in-law's chin, which was all she could
reach up to, "I quite love you myself, I declare
I do!"

"Oh, mamma! mamma! what have you
done?" cried poor Laura, when Gordon left the
room. She was almost awe-struck at what she
had heard, for her mother had never dropped
the mask to her before.

"What else was there to do, simpleton? Tell
that proud Scotchman of yours that you have a
vagabond uncle whose mere acquaintanceship