"I cannot go to him. I can go to nobody. We must start afresh with fresh friends, and I'll begin answering advertisements to-morrow. Yet—Innes has helped me already!" 

 Mrs. Ringrose has been reading herself asleep, like a practical woman, out of one of the new magazines he has brought home. The sweet face on the pillow is wonderfully calm (for it is not from his mother that Harry inherits his excitability), but at this it looks puzzled. 

 "When has he helped you?" 

 "To-night, mother! There was a motto he had when I was at his school. He used to say it in his sermons, and he taught me to say it in my heart." 

 "Well, my boy?" 

 "It came back to me just now. It puts all that we have been saying in a nutshell. May I tell you, mother?" 

 "I am waiting to hear." 

 "'Money lost—little lost.'" 

 "It's easy to say that." 

 "'Honour lost—much lost.'" 

 "I call it everything." 

 "No, mother, wait! 'Pluck lost—all lost!' It's only pluck that's everything. We must never lose that, mother, we must never lose that!" 

Pluck

all

 "God grant we never may." 

 

 CHAPTER V. A WET BLANKET. 

A WET BLANKET.

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