many times have you spent them in fancy?'

The mother held up the letter, addressed to Master Felix Chester
Underwood, No. 8 St. Oswald's Buildings, Bexley, and smiled as she
said, 'Is it all right, my boy?'

'They want me to open it outside, Mamma!--Come, Whiteheart, we want
you at the council.'

And putting his arm round his little sister Geraldine's waist, while
she took up her small crutch, Felix disappeared with her, the mother
looking wistfully after them, the father giving something between a
laugh and a sigh.

'Then you decide against speaking to him,' said Mrs. Underwood.

'Poor children, yes. A little happiness will do them a great deal
more good than the pound would do to us. The drops that will fill
their little cup will but be lost in our sea.'

'Yes, I like what comes from Vale Leston to be still a festive
matter,' said Mrs. Underwood; 'and at least we are sure the dear boy
will never spend it selfishly. It only struck me whether he would not
enjoy finding himself able to throw something into the common stock.'

'He would, honest lad,' said Mr. Underwood; 'but, Mamma, you are very
hard-hearted towards the rabble. Even if this one pound would provide
all the shoes and port wine that are pressing on the maternal mind,
the stimulus of a day's treat would be much more wholesome.'