"Well, you know best." But he shrank from meeting his children, and refused to join the early dinner, till Susy went into his room.

"Dear papa," she said, "Mamma says you have had bad news, but it may turn out better than you suppose," and then she kissed him.

His voice shook as he murmured "You'll be taken care of, my darling; I felt the first bit of comfort remembering that.”

Then she coaxed him into the dining room; but there he was overpowered completely. Margaret and Norah were both moved by one common instinct to go and kiss him mutely, and express their love and sympathy; the twins, catching the infection, followed their example; and Nelly, only half understanding what it all meant, went up, too, and flung her arms round his neck.

All this unobtrusive family love and forbearance broke him down; he fairly burst into tears, and ran out of the room. But how

sweet these tears were; and how they robbed his heart of half its bitterness!

This is a simple chronicle of family joys and sorrows, and as such does not intend to touch upon specious swindling companies at ruinous interest, or money complications; it will therefore only just tell in few words how Mr. Shrugg's hope and fear alternated for two or three long months before he knew his doom. There was one loophole of escape for him, discovered by Mr. Sims' lynx eyes; by it he could have crept out of his difficulties with the remainder of his capital untaxed; but in a strictly honourable view there would have clung to his garments, metaphorically speaking, a little mud from the mode of exit; and poverty was preferable to even the shadow of dishonour.

The end was that Francis Shrugg, Esq., once heir to an estate of £6,000 or £7,000 a year, found himself, with his half-dozen handsome daughters and a wife to keep, left well-nigh moneyless, a few hundred pounds

alone remaining of his £20,000. But already he had a scheme to avoid either parting with his children, or accepting help from his relations; and this, with the obstinacy so prominent in his character, he was determined to carry out. Friends might and did call him mad, culpable, mean-spirited—and this opinion was that of the majority; but the minority declared him honourable, sensible, and praiseworthy. The reader can choose between the two verdicts; I advocate neither, to avoid all censure. His decision was startling-I admit that; very startling in what is called good society, being neither more nor less than a resolution to go and keep that once despised shop in far-away Clack. It was a gentlemanly business, luckily-a business that need not demean itself by asking what other article was required; also Mr. Shrugg would live among people who knew his ancient prosperity, and close to where his near relation still reigned in state. He could follow his favourite studies, too; and having a good as

sistant, need never serve petty customers in the shop himself. The old dower house afforded. ample space for a large family, and had many conveniences unobtainable in modern houses in the south at a rent suitable to their fallen fortunes.

Why not let the house and business?" Mrs. Shrugg asked, when this decision was first communicated to her. But rent in Clack was very low. £20 or £30 a year was the most the largest houses were let for; and the business had no doubt fallen away during old Clacker's long decay. A large sum for that was therefore very unlikely to be realized.

Poor Mrs. Shrugg! she met her downfall bravely and calmly, but she could not all at once submit to sink down behind a counter in a buried-alive place in out-of-the-way Yorkshire. She knew from books how bleak and barbarous those Yorkshire wilds were; and though she was persuaded, she thought more of her girls than of herself. She shuddered

as she pictured her future life, far removed from the little refinements and excitements to which she had been so long accustomed. But she said nothing when she saw how determined her husband was. He could be obstinate on occasion: had he not proved this when he persisted in his marriage? Friends might sneer, relations might argue; his mind was made up.

"I don't think you have any right to drag our name down in the dust in this way," wrote his cousin Robert, the squire of Shrugg Park. "Surely our near relationship warrants your acceptance of an annual allowance from me."

"My dear Robert," was the answer;—“I am not going to drag our name down in the dust; indeed it would be raised higher than it ever has been, if I painted it above the coloured bottles! Seriously, I am too proud to accept any one's allowance, so long as I can help myself. I won't paint up ‘Shrugg, druggist,' though, out of deference to your