walls, and a porch so overgrown with creepers
as to resemble a gigantic bee-hive; its windows
were fantastically pointed, its chimneys
twisted, and its rooms low and picturesquely
inconvenient, but Alice's fancy beautified it
in a twinkling. The parlour should have a
pale green paper, and crimson carpet and
curtains: here should be Robin's books—he
had quantities of books—there his piano;
the pretty statues which he had given her,
and the handsome French clock, would
ornament the chimney-piece.

"It will do beautifully!" the young wife
exclaimed; they might look at twenty houses,
and not find another so exactly suited to
them in every respect. To be sure, Robin
struck his tall head twice in passing through
the chamber doorways, but that gave Alice
the opportunity of standing on tip-toes, and
kissing away his rueful look, and of whispering
what a bonnie, happy little nest she would
make of it for him. So the cottage was taken
and furnished, and still in the glow of "Love's
young dream," Robin and his wife took
possession of it.

It was a very easy, indolent, untroubled life
that they led for the next six months. The
summer evening walks over, the long dark
lamp and fire-light hours came, when Robin
read out some new book, while Alice sewed;
and the little green and crimson parlour was
a picture of home happiness worth seeing.

One evening, laying down his volume, he
said: "By the bye, Alice, my half-yearly
allowance from my father is nearly a month
overdue. This is the first time I have let
the day slip. I'll go to Wormsley to-morrow."
Alice said it would be very acceptable, as she
smiled and shook out a little cap of delicate,
flimsy lace that she was busy concocting.
Indeed, for a week or two back, the money
in her housekeeping purse had been ebbing
very low, and there was no corresponding
flood.

The next morning Robin went into town
by the omnibus, and waited on Mr. Wormsley,
his father's banker, to draw his money. The
banker received him with a stiff courtesy.
He said that he had not received any instructions
from his respected friend, Branston, to
pay it; indeed, he had understood from
that gentleman that Mr. Robert's allowance
ceased from the day of his marriage, on which
happy event Mr. Wormsley begged to
congratulate him.

Inexpressibly mortified and embarrassed,
Robin returned home and told his wife the
result of his expedition. She was dismayed.
"Then we have nothing, absolutely nothing
to depend upon?" she said. "Even this
cottage furniture is to pay for! What are
we to do, Robin?" Her husband made
three or four turns in the little parlour, with
a rather overcast expression, not unnatural
in a man who finds himself suddenly deprived
of all his means, while his cares are on the
increase. It was with a rather doubtful air
that he said at last, "I'll try photography,
Alice; everybody loves to see his own
portrait."

"But who will come out here, so far from
town, to have it taken!" said the young wife,
with a glance of regret round her pretty
room.

"Nobody, pet, but listen. I have a plan in
my head, only I want you to help me to
perfect it. I must engage a suitable place in
town; the 'bus will carry me backwards and
forwards."

"No, Robin, no! You will be away from
me all day; I cannot bear that," interrupted
Alice, shaking her head. "I must be with
you wherever you are. We must get lodgings
where we can be together."

Robin kissed her. "I shall like that the
best, by far; but it seems a pity to leave this
nice little place," said he.

"But we must, Robin!" responded Alice,
quietly. How often does that tiny word,
must, overrule choice, inclination, desire!

And the change was made accordingly,
not without some regrets expressed, and
more restrained. There was incessant traffic
from dawn to dark in the quarter where they
fixed their new abode; and a plate affixed to
the door-post of the lodgings announced to
all the stream of passers-by that a
photographic artist had his residence above. A
large frame full of portraits also embellished
the wall of the house; and Alice, from her
seat in the window over it, could see many
people stop to look at it. She watched
eagerly for customers, but customers were
not eager to come. By way of attracting the
public eye, Robin took portraits of the postman,
the two Lascar sweepers, and several
other public functionaries, but without much
effect. His friends came in relays, and
smoked a good many cigars, and were taken
"free, gratis, for nothing," several times over;
but that could not be regarded as a profitable
speculation. His first guinea, earned
professionally, he received from his father, who
would sit to him and pay like other people.
The old man affected to think that his son
was getting on famously. "I saw lots of
people round the door when I came in," said
he with a flourish of his hand towards that
locality, "I suppose they are waiting until
you are disengaged."

"I am afraid not, sir," Robin replied, with
his light-hearted laugh; "in fact, father, you
are my first patron."

"But you have made a fair start? Things
look respectable about you, and respectability
is all in this world: never forget that. I
daresay you find Alice a thrifty manager?
I never allowed waste in my house. How is
she to-day?"

"Not well, father. But will you not go
into the parlour and see her?"

So Ike Branston paid his compliments to
his daughter-in-law, conversed with her for
ten minutes in a fatherly way, alluded