Effie went up to her when she had a moment to spare.

"Lucy," she said, "I wish you would do something for me."

"To be sure I will, Effie," she replied--"anything in my power."

"I want to go home very badly next Sunday; do you think it would be possible for me to change with you?"

"Heigh-ho!" said Lucy, "You want to meet Mr. Lawson; I know your sly little ways."

"No, indeed, it is not true," began Effie; but then she stopped, for she knew it was true. She would meet him. "Oh, how little Lucy knows the burden that is pressing on me!" thought the poor girl.

Tears suddenly rose to her pretty brown eyes.

"I cannot explain things to you," she said; "I would if I could. You must believe in me and trust me. I have a great deal of anxiety. Oh, it has nothing to do with the hospital; it is about my home life. There is a great burden laid upon me. I want very much to go home on Sunday.

Indeed, Mr. Lawson has little to do with the real burden, only I believe he can tell me something."

"I know you are a good girl," began Lucy, who became grave on the spot.

"Of course you shall take my turn if Sister Kate will allow it."

CHAPTER XVII.

Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a pretty cut-gla.s.s jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle of port stood on the little sideboard.

She felt a sense of dismay.

"Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself.

"It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life is, now that father is no longer here!"

There had never been the faintest shadow of concealment about the honest doctor, and while with her husband Mrs. Staunton was the most straightforward woman imaginable; but, alas! her character was a weak one--she was now completely under George's influence, and George had learned to walk in those crooked paths which those who begin to do wrong are always tempted to follow.

He came in presently, looking particularly handsome and manly. He had on a nice new coat; and his beautifully got-up collar showed off his fresh young face to the best possible advantage.

Mrs. Staunton called him up at once for Effie to criticise.

"Doesn't he look well in a white silk tie?" she said. "I like white ties better than colored ones for him, and they are not so expensive either, for I can wash them myself."

"I wonder all that washing does not f.a.g you, mother," said Effie.

Before Mrs. Staunton could reply, Mrs. Robinson appeared with the dinner, and the family sat down to an excellent meal.

Effie saw quite plainly that it would be useless for her to attempt to expostulate. Mrs. Staunton, after her first start of unconcealed dismay, was very affectionate to her daughter. She told Effie that she thought she looked a little pale, and wondered whether all that nursing was not too much for her.

"No, mother, I love the work," said Effie.

"But that is not the question, my love," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking her head. "The question is this: is it undermining your health?"

"Well, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in the world."

"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George?

But, after all, Effie----" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod.

"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear eyes and not to feel sure that she was reading him through, and seeing him as he really was.

Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie were alone.

"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so, bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a gla.s.s, which he insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two gla.s.ses himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came into his cheeks.

"Yes, tell Effie," he said.

"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you."

"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an awfully fine fellow."

George laughed as he spoke.

"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which he thinks I require."

"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!"

She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw her arms round his neck, and kiss him.

"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so badly."

George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's.

"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?"

"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying.

"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the window. Her momentary pleasure was over; she knew, just as well as if George had told her, that the whole thing was a fabrication. If he had more money, he was not getting it in his situation. His look, his att.i.tude, joined to the few words Lawson had said to her, made Effie quite certain on that point. Burning words half rose to her lips, but she checked them. She did not doubt George. She read the truth in his eyes; what fell from his lips was nothing.

Mrs. Staunton kept on talking. "We shall have real comforts at home now," she said. "I am, as my boy says, a wonderful manager."

"The best in all the world," interrupted George; "there never was such a mother."

Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite shone with pleasure.

"What I was thinking was this, Effie," she continued, "that if you really are not strong enough to go on with your work, we can now afford to keep you at home."

"Of course we can," said George.

He had scarcely said these words, half turning his back on Effie as he spoke, when the room door was opened by Mrs. Robinson, and Lawson was announced.

When he saw his friend, George suddenly turned pale. He recovered himself in a moment, however, and went forward to meet him, speaking in a loud and bragging voice.

"Is that you, Lawson? Welcome, old chap. We did not expect you to-day, but we are right glad to see you, of course."