till Christmas, when we all go down to Mastonborough together, and then I can have a serious talk with Dr. Percy on the subject. In the meantime, we must do all we can to keep George at home and out of temptation's way. I think you can be of greater service than myself in this direction, Gertie, if you will only use your influence over him." My sister's lips quivered, and she looked at me piteously.

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'O, Alf! What would he think if I were to beg of him to stay at home with us of an evening?" and she hid her face in her hands.

A new light dawned upon me, and then for the first time I suspected that George had won my sister's heart. Nevertheless, very bravely did Gertie set herself to the task I had imposed on her, and for a time succeeded so well that I began to think we should win back our friend after all. The old merry smile settled on his face once more, and we resumed our music, and chess, and bésique. George's manner to my sister seemed more impressive and tender than before-it might be in gratitude for this renewed interest in him, or from some deeper feeling still—and I indulged in pleasant reveries as I watched them through the eddying smoke from my pipe. But alas! this hopeful dream soon vanished, and all the former trouble returned. Ere the day of our departure came round, George's absences had become as frequent as ever, and a painful feeling of estrangement began to set in between us.

The week before Christmas, I was detained one evening unusually late at the office, and did not reach home until nine o'clock. On entering the dining room, Gertie came forward to meet me with a white, frightened face.

"George Percy has left us," she said.

"Left us!" I replied, "what do you mean Gertie?" She rested her face on my shoulder and began to cry hysterically. I led her to a chair, and sat beside her for awhile, and then she told me all. It appeared that George had returned from the hospital early in the afternoon, and, going straight to Gertie's own room, asked her if she would listen to something he wanted specially to say to her. His unusually earnest, almost desperate manner, struck her at once, and it was with a feeling of trepidation that she invited him to enter.

"Gertie," he began excitedly, "I can go on no longer in this way. Your cold looks and distant manners are driving me mad. I know I've served you and Alf shamefully, and I don't wonder at your being angry. Will you forgive me? And will you help me? I love you, and have loved you for a long time. Sometimes I used to think I might win your love in return, but now I'm afraid it's all over. Is it any use asking you to be my wife, Gertie? I feel certain I could turn over a new leaf if you would say 'yes.' Dear Gertie ! is there any hope for me?"

"And I'm afraid I answered him too coldly and too severely," sobbed Gertie. "I told him I could never marry a drunkard, and that if he had really cared for my friendship, not to speak of my love, he could not have absented himself so from our little circle for the company of billiard players and gamblers. I said I didn't even wish to see him again until he was once more the George Percy of old times, and that it would be

much better for him to leave our house altogether, than continue to make you and me miserable as he had been doing lately. He turned very pale at this, and simply replied 'very well, Gertie,' and left the room. And I don't think he will come back again, Alf."

I comforted my sister as well as I could, but I knew George well, and felt sure she was right, and that he would never return to us.

Of course our visit to Mastonborough was now out of the question, and I at once wrote to Dr. Percy to excuse us, referring him to his son for an explanation. He acknowledged my note very briefly, and asked me to run down and see him as soon as I could conveniently do so. In the meantime poor Gertie and I passed a sorrowful Christmas alone, and determined to hasten the arrangements we had long talked of for giving up our house, and saving expense by taking apartments elsewhere. My father's savings had been but small, and since his death I had found it difficult to keep up the place, even with Dr. Percy's liberal contribution on his son's account; for at present I was earning a mere nothing, and Gertie's economical management could not lessen the rates and taxes. It would now be imprudent to attempt it any longer, so I decided to pay my visit to Mastonborough before selecting our new quarters.

I found both the Doctor and his wife in great distress about their son. The former had known for some time past, from one of his friends at Guy's, that George was falling away from his early promise, and was rather too much addicted to gay company. But his informant thought him the victim of his own high spirits, and attractive personal qualities, rather than of any tendency to vice or dissipation for its own sake; and felt sure it was only a temporary aberration. This I warmly seconded, and expressed my own confidence in his coming to his senses ere long. "It's very kind of you, Alfred," said Dr. Percy, "and his mother and I fully appreciate your thoughtfulness in keeping the bad news from us so long as there was a chance of amendment. But as it appears that the influence of Gertie's society and your own wasn't sufficient to draw him from these ways, I confess I am not over sanguine.”

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"Ah! that's the worst part of it," replied the doctor. "When he came home, he at once told me everything, and how Gertie had refused him. I know how all this must pain you and my mother,' he said, ' and I feel that I've behaved like a brute to everybody. But I can't go back to Guy's, and I can't see Gertie again. I've made up my mind to go right away; don't ask me where, nor for what purpose. Give me a hundred pounds for a start, father, and I'll either bring it back with interest, or I'll never come home again.' Nothing that his mother or I could say would alter his determination, and after carefully thinking it over, I decided to show confidence in him and let him have his way. I can only hope that the lad's better nature will get uppermost at last, and that his really fine abilities will yet produce fruit. I gave him the hundred pounds, and after a sad scene with his mother he left us."

Gertie looked grave when I returned with the news, and although she

helped me in my search for apartments, and indeed herself discovered those in which my readers found me in my opening chapter, I could see that she was brooding in secret, and had become restless and unsettled. "Alf," she said to me one evening as we sat together over the fire, "don't be angry with me, and don't try to alter my mind. I am going to take a situation. I feel that I must have active employment of some kind, and though it troubles me to leave you alone, I know you will get along all right, for Mrs. Harrison is a kind-hearted and motherly woman. You will be able to get on with your studies better without me, and try as you may to hide it, I have seen for a long time that you are more crippled in money matters than you ought to be just now."

"And pray what sort of a situation do you propose to take, sister mine?” I replied, pretending to be jocular, although I heard her proposal with dismay. "Are you going to turn telegraph clerk, lady help, or

hospital nurse?"

"I should prefer the last," she said simply, "but I don't mind what it is so that I can be useful and get my own living."

I drew closer to her and put my arm round her waist, and then, after a long talk, her persuasive earnestness won me over, and I reluctantly consented to her trying the experiment.

The next day I wrote to Dr. Percy, and asked him if he could help me in the matter, for the more I thought of it the more I felt weighed down with the responsibility of allowing my sister to go out alone in this fashion into the world. The Doctor's reply soon came.

"Send Gertie down here; I know just the situation for her. My wife and I would be only too thankful to receive her as our own daughter, and place the education of our younger children in her hands, but I can readily understand, after what has occurred, that this might not do. But my neighbour, Mrs. Brudenell, happens to be wanting a companion, and only last week asked me if I knew of some ladylike girl of good family and education who would suit her. She and Gertie would get on splendidly together, and at The Grange there would be both a happy home and a liberal salary. I think, too, that the sort of employment Gertie would have is just what would be most agreeable to her, and Mrs. B. only awaits her favourable reply."

I showed the letter to my sister, and she agreed at once to go. And so, for two years we had lived apart, except during our holidays which we generally contrived to spend together either in Mastonborough or at my bachelor quarters in London. I kept up a frequent correspondence with Gertie, as well as with the Percys, and soon discovered that not only was the former happy in her situation, but bade fair to become a sort of heroine in a quiet way in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Brudenell, an elderly widow of somewhat prim and stately manners, but warm-hearted and gentle withal, spent a large part of her time and money in ministering to the wants of her poorer neighbours, and interested herself specially in the welfare of the children. It was pleasant to see how the hearts of the little ones warmed instinctively to this quiet, dignified old lady with the grey curls and gold eye-glass, as she went in and out amongst them scattering words and deeds of kindness. Into better hands than hers my sister could not have fallen, nor into a course of life more exactly suited to her state of mind. Her motherless condition, as well as the

charm of her disposition and manners, appealed powerfully in her favour, and she speedily won Mrs. Brudenell's entire confidence and affection. By the time when my story opens Gertie had assumed almost the position of a daughter, and, throwing herself with her accustomed earnestness into her new duties, became as well known and as eagerly welcomed as Mrs. Brudenell herself. Over the young girls of the parish, especially, she gained great influence, and "Sister Gertie," as the Vicar had playfully dubbed her at one of his wife's sewing parties, became the friend and adviser of them all.

She was a constant visitor at Dr. Percy's, whose house he had begged her to look upon as a second home, and the younger branches of his family were never so happy as when they had Sister Gertie to tease, or to play with, or to read to them, according to circumstances.

And had nothing been heard of George all this while? Nothing, save that he was alive and well. Twice a year a letter came to his father, bearing the London post-mark, conveying his love to all at home; but the writer avoided all further allusion to himself, and asked that no attempt might be made to find out his whereabouts. He said he had contrived means to hear of what was passing at home, and for the present must beseech his father to have patience and wait. He would not return until he could do so with such credit as should atone for the past and ensure for him a worthy welcome.

Poor Gertie! Her maidenly pride would not allow her to ask further after our lost friend, and there could not have been even the mention of her name in his letters, or surely they would have told her!

CHAPTER III.

A hearty welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Percy and the children greeted me when I entered the house with Gertie, and my somewhat dramatic recital of how I had waylaid her and brought her home, met with warm approval from the youngsters. She was evidently a prime favourite in this household, as elsewhere, and appeals to "Sister Gertie " resounded on all sides, from the chubby three-year-old, who held out his arms to be taken, to bright-eyed saucy Jack, just home from Uppingham for the holidays, with a term's pent-up mischief awaiting opportunities for development. "Sister Gertie is going to stay here for a whole week," said gentle Mabel, the Doctor's eldest daughter, and George's special, pet and playmate when he was a lad at home. "We are all so glad," and she linked her arm in Gertie's and kissed her affectionately.

"I wish she'd stay all my holidays," responded Jack, "she is a girl and no mistake; and he looked at me as being the only one of the party likely to understand the rather obscure compliment.

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Well, yes Jack," I assented laughingly, "I think you are quite right there; she is a girl and no mistake."

"Don't be an ass, Mr. Alfred Dawson, if you can possibly help it," said Jack severely, "how she can have had such a brother as you, is one of those things no fellah can understand "--and his droll mimicry of a well-remembered actor quite upset our gravity.

"Jack, my lad, that tongue of yours will get you into serious mischief one of these days," remarked his father.

"Then I'm afraid, Dad, my tongue is to me what your physic is to your patients," replied Jack roguishly, and with a profound bow he left us, seizing the cat as he went, and impelling her by some occult means to jump over his hands at a hitherto unattempted altitude.

Before tea, Dr. Percy accompanied me to my room, and showed me a letter he had that morning received from his friend Forsyth Burns, a leading surgeon in Edinburgh, and one of the University Professors. It ran as follows:

MY DEAR PERCY,-A young friend of mine named Smith is coming into Yorkshire to look up some relations whom he has not seen for a long time, and he will only be able to get as far as Mastonborough on Christmas Eve. He intends staying at one of your hotels, but as the tender mercies of a coffee-room are cruel at such a season, I thought you would not object, for old acquaintance' sake, to my introducing him to your family circle for just one evening. Although he owns a common name, he is by no means a common fellow. On the contrary, he was the most brilliant student of his year on the medicine side, and carried all before him. He has been my assistant for six months, and I hope will soon become my partner. Our old chief, Ferguson, has taken quite a fancy to him, and prophesies great things of his future. Professionally, therefore, you will find him good company, and as he knows something of your son George's doings lately, his visit will not perhaps be altogether unacceptable. Have you formed a decided opinion on Auerbach's germinal theories yet? I confess I can't follow the man at all. With every good Christmas wish for you and yours,

Believe me, dear Percy,

Ever yours,

FORSYTH BURNS.

"If this Mr. Smith were much less than Burns describes, I should welcome him for the sake of his news of George, for I must confess, Alfred, I am getting more anxious than ever about our boy. It is now two years since he left us, and I do think that for his mother's sake, as well as mine, he ought to have come home ere now."

"I think so too," I replied, "and I was hoping on my way down that the Prodigal might have chosen this very day for his return, and have removed from our Christmas gathering its only bitter element. But is it not almost time Mr. Smith had arrived?"

"I have been across to "The Bull" and find that he is expected by the 7 o'clock train. I left my card with the landlord and asked him to send his visitor with as little delay as possible."

The Doctor and I descended into the dining room, and found Mrs. Percy presiding over her happy group of children at the tea-table. Gertie sat at the opposite end, and looked almost motherly herself, as she poured out the coffee and supplied the various wants of the younger ones. For once they seemed disposed to neglect their mamma's domain altogether, and "sister Gertie's" viands were in unanimous request. But for the one great sorrow that would come into the minds of all of us, and tempered our feast with a sadness which we did our best to conceal, there would have been no happier family gathering in England this Christmas Eve, and Master Jack seemed determined to do his best to atone even for that. Nothing could check his spirit of fun and mischief,