Then they unpacked their few belongings, and tried to enliven their dreary lodgings with a few precious mementoes of happier days. Finally, worn out in mind and body, they took shelter in bed, and for a blessed season forgot all their misery and forebodings in sleep.
There is no magic equal to that which a night's sleep will sometimes work. The little party assembled cheerfully at the breakfast-table next morning, prepared to face the day bravely.
A large letter, in Mr Richmond's handwriting, lay on Mrs Cruden's plate. It contained three letters--one from the lawyer himself, and one for each of the boys from Wilderham. Mr Richmond's letter was brief and business-like.
"Dear Madam,--Enclosed please find two letters, which I found lying at Garden Vale yesterday. With regard to balance of your late husband's assets in your favour, I have an opportunity of investing same at an unusually good rate of interest in sound security. Shall be pleased to wait on you with particulars. Am also in a position to introduce the young gentlemen to a business opening, which, if not at first important, may seem to you a favourable opportunity. On these points I shall have the honour of waiting on you during to-morrow afternoon, and meanwhile beg to remain,--
"We ought to make sure what the investment is," said Reginald, after hearing the letter read, "before we hand over all our money to him."
"To be sure, dear," said Mrs Cruden, who hated the sound of the word investment.
"I wonder what he proposes for us?" said Horace. "Some clerkship, I suppose."
"Perhaps in his own office," said Reginald. "_What_ an opening that would be!"
"Never you mind. The law's very respectable; but I know I'd be no good for that. I might manage to serve tea and raisins behind a grocer's counter, or run errands, or--"
"Black boots! I bet you neither you nor I could black a pair of boots properly to save our lives."
"It seems to me we shall have to try it this very morning," said Reginald, "for no one has touched mine since last night."
"But who are your letters from?" said Mrs Cruden. "Are they very private?"
"Not mine," said Horace. "It's from old Harker. You may read it if you like, mother."
Mrs Cruden took the letter and read aloud,--