"Indeed, papa, I think they would if they only knew. We would all do
anything to see you your old jovial self again. Give up this wretched
struggle; tell Mr. Fox to do his worst. I am not afraid of being poor;
I am sure we could work up again."

"You know nothing about poverty," sighed her father. "When you are
down, the world that bowed at your feet will run over and trample on
you. I have seen it so often, but never thought of danger to me and
mine."

"But this party," said the practical Edith, "why not give this up? It
will cost a great deal."

"By no means give it up," said her father. "It may help me very much.
My credit is everything now. The appearance of wealth which such, a
display insures will do much to secure the wealth. I am watched day
and night, and must show no sign of weakness. Go on with the party and
make it as brilliant as possible. If I fail, two or three thousand
will make no difference, and it may help me to succeed. Whatever
strengthens my credit for the next few days is everything to me. My
stock is rising, only it is too slow. Things look better--if I could
only gain time. But I am very uneasy--my head troubles me," and he put
his hand to his head, and Edith remembered how often, she had seen him
do that of late.

"By the way," said he, abruptly, "tell me how you get on with Mr.
Fox."

"Oh, never mind about that now; do rest a little, mind and body."