Poor Franks had not got so far yet as to see this, and the feeling of
the approach of old age helped to relax the springs of his hopefulness.
Also his wife had not yet got over her last confinement. The baby, too,
was sickly. And there was not much popular receptivity for acrobatics in
the streets; coppers came in slowly; the outlay was heavy; and the
outlook altogether was of the gray without the gold. But his wife's
words were always cheerful, though the tone of them had not a little of
the mournful. Their tone came of temperament, the words themselves of
love and its courage. The daughter of a gamekeeper, the neighbors
regarded her as throwing herself away when she married Franks; but she
had got an honest and brave husband, and never when life was hardest
repented giving herself to him.
For a few weeks they did pretty well in their new lodging. They managed
to pay their way, and had food enough--though not quite so good as
husband and wife wished each for the other, and both for their children.
The boys had a good enough time of it. They had not yet in London
exhausted their own wonder. The constant changes around made of their
lives a continuous novel--nay, a romance, and being happy they could eat
anything and thrive on it.
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