we must not suffer distorting suggestions nor the appeals of a false pride to influence our minds in the least.  You are my oldest child, Edith; and, as such, I cannot but look upon you as, to some extent, jointly with me, the guardian of your younger brothers and sisters.  True, Miriam is of age, and Henry nearly so; but still you are the eldest—­your mind is more matured, and in your judgment I have the most confidence.  Try and forget, Edith, all but the fact that, unless we make an exertion, one home for all cannot be retained.  Are you willing that we should be scattered like leaves in the autumn wind?  No! you would consider that one of the greatest calamities that could befall us—­an evil to prevent which we should use every effort in our power.  Do you, not see this clearly?”

“I do, mother,” was replied by Edith in a more rational tone of voice than that in which she had yet spoken.

“To open a store of any kind would involve five times the exposure of a boarding-house; and, moreover, I know nothing of business.”

“Keeping a store?  Oh, no! we couldn’t do that.  Think of the dreadful exposure!”

“But in taking boarders we only increase our family, and all goes on as usual.  To my mind, it is the most genteel thing that we can do.  Our style of living will be the same; our waiter and all our servants will be retained.  In fact, to the eye there will be little change, and the world need never know how greatly reduced our circumstances have become.”

This mode of argument tended to reconcile Edith to taking boarders.  Something, she saw, had to be done.  Opening a store was felt to be out of the question; and as to commencing a school, the thought was repulsed at the very first suggestion.

A few friends were consulted on the subject, and all agreed that the best thing for the widow to do was to take boarders.  Each one could point to some lady who had commenced the business with far less ability to make boarders comfortable, and who had yet got along very well.  It was conceded on all hands that it was a very genteel business, and that some of the first ladies had been compelled to resort to it, without being any the less respected.  Almost every one to whom the matter was referred spoke in favour of the thing, and but a single individual suggested difficulty; but what he said was not permitted to have much weight.  This individual was a brother of the widow, who had always been looked upon as rather eccentric.  He was a bachelor and without fortune, merely enjoying a moderate income as book-keeper in the office of an insurance company.  But more of him hereafter.

CHAPTER II.

Mrs. Darlington, the widow we have just introduced to the reader, had five children.  Edith, the oldest daughter, was twenty-two years of age at the time of her father’s death; and Henry, the oldest son, just twenty.  Next to Henry was Miriam, eighteen years old.  The ages of the two youngest children, Ellen and Edward, were ten and eight.