"I can't pay the Christmas bills. The money prepared for them I have had to encroach upon for other things. A new silk gown I was obliged to have; I can't go like an alms-woman. Never before did I have Christmas bills; I paid as I went on; but the cost of things in this place is frightful. I did not want money embarrassment added to my other troubles. It is all through our having come up here."
Mr. Henry winced at the last reproach, too evidently directed to him. "I did it for the best," he gently said. "I was anxious that George should get on."
Mrs. Paradyne lifted her delicate hands with deprecation, and went on with her complaints. They were wearying and painful, even to him; what, then, must they be to the high-spirited and generous boy who was exposed to them always? But Mr. Henry contrived to accomplish his mission, and he left a feeling of peace behind him when he quitted the house.
He had plenty of work on his hands yet that night, and ran all the way home. Dashing into Mrs. Butter's kitchen for a light, a quicker mode than ringing for that esteemed and rather slow landlady to bring it, he dashed against a man who was seated on the kitchen table by fire-light, his legs swaying. No need to wait for recognition this time; it was the young man he had twice seen near the college.
"Well?" said the latter, with cool equanimity; "there's room to pass without knocking me over."
"Who are you?" exclaimed Mr. Henry; "are you waiting to see Mrs. Butter?"
"I have seen her—cross-grained old thing! Her temper does not improve with years."
Before anything more passed, or Mr. Henry had in the least formed an idea as to the aspect of affairs, Mrs. Butter came in with Miss Brabazon. The latter had a shawl over her head, and burst out crying as she spoke to the stranger. "Oh, Tom, why have you come here?"
"Can I be of any assistance to you, Miss Brabazon?" whispered Mr. Henry, partially comprehending the mystery. "Will you make use of my sitting-room?"
"Thank you. It is my brother!"