They all sat down to dinner, which Effie further noticed was a great deal more luxurious than when she held the purse strings. There was a nice little joint of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and one or two vegetables. This course was followed by an apple tart and custard; and then the board was graced with some russet apples and walnuts and a bottle of port wine.

Effie felt such a sense of consternation that she could scarcely eat this pleasant food. But Mrs. Staunton, George, Lawson, and the younger children enjoyed the dinner thoroughly. When the beef was taken away, there was very little left on the joint; and as to the fruit tart, it vanished almost as soon as it was cut. Effie could not help wondering to herself how £150 a year could meet this lavish style of living.

Lawson talked very pleasantly during dinner. After glancing toward Effie several times, he suddenly remarked:

"I cannot help feeling that I know your face," said he. "Where and when have we met before?"

"I saw you last night," said Effie, with a smile.

"You saw me last night! What in the world do you mean?"

"Yes," said Effie. "Don't you remember No. 17, in B Ward? You came in to stop that terrible hemorrhage from the lungs from which she was suffering."

"B Ward at St. Joseph's?" exclaimed Lawson.

"Oh, my dear Effie, now I beg of you not to allude to horrible things at dinner," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton.

"No, mother; I am sorry I mentioned it." Effie colored up.

"What have you to do with St. Joseph's?" said Lawson.

"I am a probationer in B Ward, under Sister Kate."

"Never! how extraordinary! Now I remember, you are the girl who held the basin. So you really are a probationer! A fresh one! Have you been there long?"

"Just a week."

"Well, let me congratulate you on one thing, you held that basin without shaking it; I expect you have got plenty of nerve. Of course, I knew I must have seen you before; I never forget a face."

Lawson presently went out with George for a walk. Agnes dressed the children and took them with her to the Sunday school, and Effie was alone with her mother.

"Come and sit by me, darling," said Mrs. Staunton. "It is so very nice to have you home again; I miss you very much, my dear daughter. But I am really getting better. George wants me to consult Dr. Davidson at St. Joseph's Hospital. He thinks that your dear father may have been mistaken about my heart, and that it may get quite strong and well again."

"If you feel better, I don't think I would consult anyone," said Effie, trembling a little.

"Well, dear, well, there's no hurry about it. But I always notice, Effie, and it distresses me not a little that any suggestion of George's you are likely to pooh-pooh; now, surely that is scarcely fair to him, dear fellow? You must notice, my love, how cheerful and pleasant we have made this room. George insisted on my getting new curtains—only white muslin, you careful child. They cost really very little, but they do make such a difference in the effect. Then he has also determined that I shall live better, plenty of meat and a little port wine. It is a most false economy, my dear, not to attend to one's diet. There's nothing else keeps up the health."

"Yes, mother, I know all that; but good, expensive, nourishing things have to be paid for."

"Now, Effie, don't let me hear you begin that dismal plaint. Do you really mean to insinuate that I, your mother, would go into debt for things?"

"Oh, no, dear mother! how could I think that?"

"You imply it, my love, by your manner."

Effie sighed.

It was hopeless to argue or remonstrate. She felt as if the little home, so different from the beloved one in Whittington, was in reality constructed over a volcano—any day it might collapse. The weight of sorrow which pressed against her heart as she thought of this, of her father, of the old life, quite crushed the brave spirit for the moment. Where was George's honor? How dared he lead his mother into these extravagances, when he knew, too, when he knew——

Effie clasped her hands tightly together. She restrained her emotions with an effort, and turned the conversation to indifferent matters.

Mrs. Staunton was certainly in better spirits. There was a little color in her cheeks, and some of the old sweet brightness in her eves.

When George had been absent about an hour, she grew restless and distraite; she left her seat by Effie's side, and, going to the window, looked up and down the street.

"I hope the rain isn't coming on," she said; "he forgot to take an overcoat."

"Who, mother?"

"George."

"But really, mother dear, he isn't sugar; he won't melt."

"There you are again, Effie, making little of your brother. It so happens that he has a nice new coat on to-day, and I don't want it to get shabby at once."

"A new coat! How did he buy it?"

"I lent him a little money for the purpose; he didn't go into debt, so you need not think it."

"I wonder you were able to spare the money."

"Oh, yes; some of my dividends fell due, and were paid on Monday. I lent George three pounds; I think he has got a wonderful coat for the money. He will pay me back as soon as he gets his own salary. Ah! and there he is, dear fellow, and that nice-looking young man, Mr. Lawson. Effie, now do ring the bell; Mrs. Robinson ought to have tea on the table."

With a great effort Effie kept from making remarks which she knew would only irritate her mother.

She said to herself, "There's no help for things to-day. The person to talk to is George; he ought not to allow mother to rush through her money in this way. I wonder if I am doing wrong in giving up my home-life to the hospital; but no, I don't think I am. Mother would have insisted on managing the money in any case."

Mrs. Robinson appeared with the tea-tray. There was a little jug of cream and a shilling Madeira cake; there was also a great plate of thick bread and butter for the children. The tea-tray was placed on the table, and George and Lawson took their tea standing. Effie helped them. Lawson looked at her once or twice, and thought what a wonderfully nice face she had, how true her eyes were, how good she seemed altogether.

"She's altogether of different metal from her brother," thought the young man. "I wish with all my heart he were like her; but although there is something lovable about him, and we are chums, of course, yet I never feel quite sure of myself when in his company."

The meal which followed was quite merry. Phil and Marjory had gone up to the top of their class in Sunday school; Agnes was promoted to teach a class of very little children; Katie was going in for the Junior Cambridge Examination, and eagerly consulted Effie about some books which she was obliged to procure. Effie promised to give her the money out of her first month's salary.

"But that will be some time off," she said, "for I am only going through my month's trial now, so you must be patient, Katie."

"I'll lend you the money," said George, stroking his sister's hair.

He looked so affectionate and handsome, and so manly and good-humored, that it was impossible not to feel pleased with him. Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite beamed as she glanced at her eldest son.

"Now, mother, I am going to sit near you," he said. He drew his chair close to his mother, and began to talk to her in a low tone.

Effie and Lawson exchanged a few words over hospital work. He would make an enthusiastic doctor some day! he loved the profession and thought it the noblest in the world. He reminded Effie a little of her father.

The quick hours flew all too fast. Effie's time was up. She went back to the hospital with a curious sense of uneasiness, but equally also of rest and refreshment. It was nice to think that George had such a good friend as Fred Lawson.