"You will stay and have tea with us, won't you, Mr. Lawson?" said Mrs.

Staunton in her sweet voice.

"Yes, certainly," said Lawson.

He had given Effie his hand when he came into the room, but he scarcely looked at her.

He sat down near Mrs. Staunton, and began to talk to her in his usual bright way. She yielded after a moment to his charm. Lawson was a young fellow with a great amount of general information; he had also abundance of tact, and he knew how to suit his words to Mrs. Staunton's requirements.

When George saw his friend talking to his mother, he went up to Effie and stood near her.

"Come to this end of the room," he said abruptly.

Effie followed him.

"I am likely to make quite a pile of money," he said, speaking in a low voice and glancing toward his mother. "I know you think badly of me,--it's awfully hard on a fellow when his sister thinks badly of him,--but, nevertheless, I am likely to be in a real good way of business soon. And what I want to say now is this, Effie. I am anxious to pay back that 250 which you borrowed for me."

"I wish you would," said Effie.

"Well, I dare say I can give you fifty pounds toward it this week.

Squire Harvey won't require the whole of the money back at once."

"Oh, he doesn't require it at all," said Effie. "It is I who require it.

It is my honor and the honor of my dead father that demands it. It ought to be paid back, and you ought to do it."

"Don't speak so loudly--you do get so excited about things," said George.

Effie lowered her voice. Lawson, as he talked to Mrs. Staunton, glanced sharply at her.

Tea was brought in, and Effie had to take her place at the tea-tray.

George's words had made her feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was absolute nonsense to suppose that he could be earning money at this rate.

After tea, Effie had to go back to the hospital.

"Good-by mother," she said. "I won't see you now for a fortnight."

Mrs. Staunton got up and put her feeble old arms round her daughter's neck. "Good-by, my darling," she said. "Take care of yourself; don't overwork yourself. Remember it is unnecessary. You have got a home, and a dear, n.o.ble, faithful brother to provide for you."

"Yes, Effie, you are heartily welcome to all that I can give you," said George in a lofty tone.

Effie pressed her lips to her mother's, kept her arms for one moment round her neck, and then turned away with tears in her eyes.

"Good-by, George," she said, holding out her hand.

"I'll see you back to the hospital," said George.

"Don't do that. It is a beautiful evening; mother would like you to take a walk with her."

"And I'd have the greatest pleasure in seeing Miss Effie home, if she would let me," said Lawson.

George hesitated for a moment. For some reason, which was more than evident, he did not want Effie to be alone with his friend.

He looked at his mother. She did not catch his eye, or she would have read his wish by instinct. The evening was really very fine, and she liked to walk round the square leaning on George's arm. When well enough, too, she liked him to take her to church.

"I think I'd enjoy a little walk with you, George," she said. "The evening is quite like spring--Wonderful weather for so near Christmas; the air is as mild and soft as milk; and as Mr. Lawson has so kindly promised to see Effie back, perhaps you'd come?"

"All right," said George. "By-by, Effie; you'll hear from me, perhaps, in the course of the week."

Effie went downstairs, followed by Lawson. As soon as ever they got out, he looked her full in the face.

"You must be greatly amazed," he said, "at my presuming to bother you about your family affairs."

"Oh, no!" she replied. "I think you are kind, but your words have made me very anxious."

"Then," said Lawson, "you see for yourself that things are not all right."

"I have known that for some time."

"George is a great friend of mine," continued Lawson. "We saw a good deal of each other when he first came to town--he was a right jolly sort of fellow then; it was only about six months ago that, all of a sudden, he seemed to change. I suppose he took up with some bad companions, but I really can't say for certain."

"But what about him now?" said Effie, in a voice almost irritable with anxiety. "Have you anything fresh to tell me?"

"You heard him, probably, say to your mother that he had a rise of salary?"

"Yes."

"The fact is," continued Lawson, "I know that not to be true."

Effie also in her heart of hearts knew it not to be true, but she could not bear to hear a stranger abuse her brother.

"How can you be sure?" she said, somewhat inconsistently.

"How can I be sure?" he retorted. "This is not a matter of sentiment, I happen to know. George is working with a relative, it is true, but Mr.

Gering is one of the hardest men in the City. Everyone who understands him knows the system on which he works, and a relative has no more chance with him than another. George will have to take his rise step by step at something like the rate of ten pounds a year. Perhaps he has told your mother that he has had quite a large rise."

"He said a hundred a year; he said he was now receiving two hundred a year."

"What is to be done?" said Lawson, "Something ought to be done to stop it. Your mother will certainly live beyond her means, and then you will all get into no end of a mess. Do forgive me for taking an interest; the fact is, George was a great friend of mine once."

"Oh, please don't give him up!" said Effie. "If good men turn against him, what chance has he, poor fellow?"

"I won't, if you wish me to look after him," said Lawson, giving her a quick glance.

At this moment two nurses from St. Joseph's Hospital, who were crossing the street, saw Effie. They noticed her earnest face, the sparkle in her eyes; they also observed the glance which the handsome young medical student gave her. The women nudged one another, smiled, and went on.

Effie never saw them.

"Let us walk a little faster," said Lawson, who was not so un.o.bservant.

He felt vexed that the women should see him with Effie, but now that he was with her he must at least unburden his mind.