We knew if she took that, or any other pecuniary matter, seriously in
hand, she would carry it through; and, between jest and earnest, we were
wont to speculate whether, in the end, it might not prove cheaper to our
firm if Mr. Craven were to farm that place, and pay Miss Blake's niece
an annuity of say one hundred a year.

Ultimately we decided that it would, but that such a scheme was
impracticable, because Miss Blake would always think we were making a
fortune out of River Hall, and give us no peace till she had a share of
the profit.

For a time, Miss Blake--after unfastening her bonnet-strings, and taking
out her brooch and throwing back her shawl--sat fanning herself with a
dilapidated glove, and saying, "Oh dear! oh dear! what is to become of
me I cannot imagine." But, at length, finding I was not to be betrayed
into questioning, she observed:

"If William Craven knew the distress I am in, he would not be out of
town enjoying himself, I'll be bound."

"I am quite certain he would not," I answered, boldly. "But as he is
away, is there nothing we can do for you?"

She shook her head mournfully. "You're all a parcel of boys and children
together," was her comprehensive answer.

"But there is our manager, Mr. Taylor," I suggested.

"Him!" she exclaimed. "Now, if you don't want me to walk out of the