"What do you do with it all?"
"I get my own clothes."
"Well, of course you have to look neat—but in this out-of-the-way place—why, anything would do to wear. You used to talk of laying by part."
"Yes, for you," gravely. "But it is harder than I thought. Mrs. Bryant likes me to get some things—a good many things—besides clothes. And I never tell my uncle."
"You ought. It is his money, and she has no right to put upon you. How much have you now?"
"My last quarter—five pounds. Are you wanting money for anything?"
"Well—I shouldn't mind! There's my journey here and back, and I have to get a lot of new things going to London. I don't mean to disturb a penny of what is laid by. I would rather go shabby. No end to that, if once one begins."
"I only wish I had more," sighed Lettice, trying not to look in the face what she really felt.
When they reached the cottage, Keith alone was downstairs, and he stared with round eyes at the newcomer. Lettice left them to make acquaintance, and ran upstairs for her purse. How to get on without her quarter's allowance, during the next three months, was a mystery, since Mrs. Bryant was in the habit of making frequent calls upon it; but she would not refuse Felix. She always had meant to send him the first sum she could spare. Only, that he could ask her for it, not even inquiring what her needs might be, was an unlooked-for blow. She dared not trust herself to think, and hastened back to put the little purse into his hands.
"It is all I have, Felix—just five pounds. I wish I had twenty pounds to give you!"