"What are you thinking of, Frank?" Mrs. Hardy asked her husband one
evening, after an unusually long silence on his part.

"Well, my dear, I was thinking of a good many things. In the first
place, I think, I began with wondering what I should make of the
boys; and that led to such a train of thoughts about ourselves and
our circumstances that I hardly knew where I was when you spoke to
me."

Mr. Hardy spoke cheerfully, but his wife saw at once that it was
with an effort that he did so. She put down the work upon which she
was engaged, and moved her chair nearer to his by the fire. "It is
a serious question, Frank, about the boys. Charley is fifteen now,
and Hubert fourteen. I wonder myself sometimes what we shall do
with them."

"There seems no opening here in England for young fellows. The
professions are crowded, even if they were not altogether beyond
our means; and as to a clerkship, they had better have a trade, and
stick to it: they would be far happier, and nearly as well paid.
The fact is, Clara," and here Mr. Hardy paused a little, as if to
gain courage to say what he feared would be very disagreeable to
his wife--"the fact is, we are altogether too crowded here. The
best thing for the children, by far, and I think the best thing for
ourselves, would be to emigrate."

Mrs. Hardy gave a little sigh, but said nothing, and sat looking
quietly into the fire, as her husband went on: "You see, my dear, I
am just, and only just, earning enough for us to live upon. Nor is
there any strong probability of an increase of business. The boys,