Trix was at the station to meet them-a greatly developed Trix, as became a young woman who not only provided for her own education but also that of her sister.  The door-knocker had disappeared, and her lanky locks were screwed into a knot about as big as a good-sized walnut; she wore a discarded black skirt of Ruth’s, which reached down to her ankles, a blue blouse, white sailor-hat, and brown shoes.  Ruth’s heart contracted with pain when she saw her, and even Mollie felt a pang of dismay.  So shabby, so unkempt, so obviously poverty-stricken!  Was it really possible that Trix had looked like this six weeks before, and that the sight had caused no consternation?

Plainly Miss Trix was rather pleased than otherwise with her appearance, and was decidedly patronising to her half-sisters, ordering them about, and treating them with the lenient forbearance which a busy worker might be expected to show to two elderly, incapable drones.  She interviewed the porter as to sending home the luggage, and only consented to the hire of a cab when it was proved to her own satisfaction that the cost would be about equal.  She took Ruth’s purse from her hand to tip the porter, looking at him the while with such a severe and determined air that his grumbles died upon his lips; finally, she gave the cabman instructions to stop at a certain shop, where-as she informed her sisters triumphantly-potatoes could be bought three-halfpence a peck cheaper than in more fashionable neighbourhoods.

“Good gracious, Trix, you don’t mean to take home potatoes in the cab!” gasped Ruth, fresh from the delightful luxury of the Court, where no one thought what anything cost, and every luxury of the season appeared of its own accord upon the table; but Trix smiled at her benignly, and replied-

“Certainly; two pecks!  And any other vegetables I can pick up cheap.  It will help to pay for the cab-fare.  Not that you will get any of them to-night, for we have knocked off late dinner and afternoon-tea, and have one late tea instead.  Cold tongue for you to-night, as you have had a journey.  Mother wanted to have a chicken.  The idea! `No, indeed,’ I said; `let them begin as they must go on.  Our chicken days are over!’”

“I think yours are, any way.  You seem to have grown into a very old hen,” cried Mollie disconsolately.  She looked across the cab at the businesslike young woman, and wondered if a few weeks of home under the new conditions would work a similar transformation in herself and Ruth.  It was a comfort to remember that Trix’s vocation kept her out of the house for the greater part of the day, for it would be distinctly trying to be “bossed” as a permanent thing.

Perhaps Trix’s thoughts had wandered to the same subject, for her welcome was the reverse of encouraging.

“Can’t think what you’ve come back for!” she declared candidly.  “Mother thought of sending for you last week, but I told her it was absurd.  It will make more work, and both the servants are going.  We gave Mary notice, and Kate said she couldn’t abase herself to be a `general’ after her bringings up.  Goodness knows who we shall get!  I sat for two hours in a registry-office yesterday afternoon, when we had a half-holiday, and didn’t see a single creature who could be bribed to come. `Nine in family; one servant, cellar kitchens; washing done at home.’  Sounds so attractive, doesn’t it?  And yet I suppose we ought not to afford even one.  If we lived in the country we could do the work alone, but cockroaches!  No really refined mind can cope with cockroaches, and they simply swarm in the back kitchen...  Mother’s terribly cut up that you have left the Court.  If I had been in your place I’d have stayed on, and persuaded the old man to help father out of his difficulties.”

“Oh, Trix, as if we hadn’t tried!  You talk as if no one had any sense but yourself!  You are very clever and important, no doubt, but even your earnings will not keep the family.  There is a little work left for Mollie and myself!” cried Ruth hotly.

Whereupon Trix elevated the red marks which should have been her eyebrows, and exclaimed coolly-

“Hallo, still snapping!  I thought you would be quite good-tempered after such a holiday!”

It was indeed like being at home again to hear a squabble between Ruth and Trix within the first ten minutes.

When the house was reached, there was the little mother standing in the doorway, smiling and waving her hands in welcome; but at the first sight of her both girls felt a sudden choking sensation in the throat, so wan did she appear, so bleached in colour, such a tiny, frail little creature to be burdened with the care of an impecunious household!  She clung to her girls, and her girls clung to her, and presently they were seated together round the dining-room table, on which, in spite of Trix’s dismal prophecy, appeared a tray of the ever-welcome afternoon-tea.

“After their journey, Trix dear!  I thought just this once,” murmured Mrs Connor apologetically.  “Dear Ruth, how sweet you look!  Is that a new coat?  No, I see it is not; but it looks new, with that charming collar and vest.  And your hair, dear; and Mollie’s, too!  So beautifully done!  I suppose the maid taught you?  Oh, darlings, I’m thankful to have you back, but I should never have sent for you!  You were on the spot, and could judge best what to do.  Did you-did you let Uncle Bernard know of our trouble?”

The strained eagerness of the small face, the involuntary tremor in the voice, smote the girls to the heart.  Ruth turned her head aside, herself on the verge of tears, while Mollie said brokenly-

“We sent him your letter to read, and when he said nothing I asked him point-blank if he would lend father enough money to put things right just now, and promised that we would all work to pay him back.”

“Yes, dear-yes!  And then?”

“He wouldn’t.  He jeered at me, and said he made it a rule never to throw good money after bad.  He would keep us for the remaining six weeks, if we agreed to stay, but more than that he must refuse to do.  So there seemed no alternative, mother dear, but to come straight away and try to help you ourselves.”

“Yes, dear-yes.  Bless you!  You were quite right!”

Mrs Connor tried to speak bravely; but it was as if the last gleam of hope had died out of her tired eyes, and her hands trembled as she clasped them in her lap.  She herself had not realised until this moment how much she had counted upon Uncle Bernard’s intervention, and now the last hope seemed gone.  She shivered, and put her hand to her head; then forced herself to smile, as she met the girls’ anxious gaze.

“It’s always the darkest the hour before the dawn.  You must talk things over with pater, dears; my head is so confused.  I shall be thankful for your help in the house, and no doubt something will turn up for you, as it has done for Trix.”

“Mother,” cried Ruth, with an outburst of irritation, which was the result of tired-out nerves and body, “Trix is insupportable!  She behaves as if she were the head of the house!  How can you let her give herself such airs and domineer over you so?  I shan’t stand it for one, and the sooner she understands it the better.  I am not going to be ordered about by a bit of a chit of seventeen, and apologise to her if I dare to have as much as a cup of tea!”

“Hu-ush, dear!” Mrs Connor cast an apprehensive glance towards the half-opened door, through which Trix’s voice could be heard superintending the carrying of the luggage.  “She is such a child!  Young things are always inclined to go to extremes; and she has been so good!  I don’t know what I should have done without her!  We must not let her feel slighted because you have returned!”

That was true enough; Trix had borne the heat and burden of the day, while her stepsisters were amusing themselves, in blissful ignorance of the gathering troubles.  Ruth’s irritation was silenced by the reminder, and she listened quietly while Mollie pressed her mother for details of the present situation.  Alas, it was even worse than had been expected!  It was so bad that it could not well be worse, and it seemed ridiculous to talk of what they could afford, since, as a matter of fact, they could afford nothing at all.  It was a matter of speculation whence the next twenty pounds was to come.

“`Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity!’ Some friend will be raised up to help us through this strait.  It is not often that we are brought to a point when we realise our own helplessness so plainly.  Let us look upon it as an opportunity, and watch to see what He will do. `Be not dismayed, neither be afraid, for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.’”

Mrs Connor’s voice sank to a rapt whisper, her face shone with that wonderful grace and exaltation which the Christian knows in the midst of his trial; but her daughters looked at her pinched cheeks and haggard eyes, and felt their hearts sink within them.

It was a dreary evening-how different from the triumphant home-coming which fancy had painted so often during the weeks of absence!  The house felt unbearably cramped and airless.  It was dreadful to have no garden, after having practically lived out of doors; and oh, what a contrast the evening meal presented from the repast served nightly in the old oak dining-hall!

When people are in the extremity of anxiety and poverty, they have no heart to attend to the little superfluities which add so much to the beauty of daily life; there was not a single flower on the table, nor in the half-lit drawing-room, where Trix sternly forbade the lighting of a second lamp.  Mr Connor sat silent and haggard, and his wife poured out tea and smiled a pathetic, patient little smile, as the children catechised the travellers.

Was the Court a jolly big house?  Were there strawberries in the garden?  Did the footmen wear white stockings, like the Lord Mayor’s Show?  What was the name of the horse that bolted?  What did they have for dinner every night?  On and on went the endless catechism, which the sisters tolerated only as an improvement on silence.  They had no wish to visit Attica, but retired upstairs to their bedroom at the earliest possible moment to mingle tears of misery.

“I-I feel as if I should burst!” cried Ruth expressively.  “My heart is so full that I can’t bear another thing!  Everything seems to have happened at once, and I feel crushed!”

“It’s so bad that it must get better! it can’t possibly get worse!” said Mollie, persistently hopeful in the midst of her misery.

But alas, her prophecy was not justified by events!  Mrs Connor crawled about the house for another week, looking every day smaller and more fragile; and then a morning came when she could not rise from bed, and all other anxieties seemed to dwindle in significance when the illness took a serious turn, and her precious life itself seemed in danger.