I should still have been so, even if Mr. Dick, leaning over the great kite behind my aunt, had not taken every secret opportunity of shaking his head darkly at me, and pointing at her.

“Trot,” said my aunt at last, when she had finished her tea, and carefully smoothed down her dress, and wiped her lips—“you needn’t go, Barkis!—Trot, have you got to be firm and self-reliant?”

“I hope so, aunt.”

“What do you think?” inquired Miss Betsey.

“I think so, aunt.”

“Then why, my love,” said my aunt, looking earnestly at me, “why do you think I prefer to sit upon this property of mine to-night?”

I shook my head, unable to guess.

“Because,” said my aunt, “it’s all I have. Because I’m ruined, my dear!”

If the house, and every one of us, had tumbled out into the river together, I could hardly have received a greater shock.

“Dick knows it,” said my aunt, laying her hand calmly on my shoulder. “I am ruined, my dear Trot! All I have in the world is in this room, except the cottage; and that I have left Janet to let. Barkis, I want to get a bed for this gentleman to-night. To save expense, perhaps you can make up something here for myself. Anything will do. It’s only for to-night. We’ll talk about this, more, to-morrow.”

I was roused from my amazement, and concern for her—I am sure, for her—by her falling on my neck, for a moment, and crying that she only grieved for me. In another moment, she suppressed this emotion; and said with an aspect more triumphant than dejected—

“We must meet reverses boldly, and not suffer them to frighten us, my dear. We must learn to act the play out. We must live misfortune down, Trot!”