CHAPTER FIVE.
THE CRUDENS AT HOME.
If anything could have made up to the two boys for the hardships and miseries of the day, it was the sight of their mother's bright face as she awaited them that evening at the door of Number 6, Dull Street.

If the day had been a sad and lonely one for Mrs Cruden, she was not the woman to betray the secret to her sons; and, indeed, the happiness of seeing them back was enough to drive away all other care for the time being.
Shabby as the lodgings were, and lacking in all the comforts and luxuries of former days, the little family felt that evening, as they gathered round the tea-table and unburdened their hearts to one another, more of the true meaning of the word "home" than they had ever done before.
"Now, dear boys," said Mrs Cruden, when the meal was over, and they drew their chairs to the open window, "I'm longing to hear your day's adventures.

How did you get on?
Was it as bad as you expected ?" "It wasn't particularly jolly," said Reginald, shrugging his shoulders--"nothing like Wilderham, was it, Horrors ?" "Well, it was a different sort of fun, certainly," said Horace.

"You see, mother, our education has been rather neglected in some things, so we didn't get on as well as we might have done." "Do you mean in the literary work ?" said Mrs Cruden.

"I'm quite sure you'll get into it with a little practice." "But it's not the literary work, unluckily," said Reginald.
"Ah! you mean clerk's work.