"I do not think you will need any. Mary manages the housekeeping."
"But, grandfather, I am penniless. It is dreadful to be kept so. Supposing I was out of doors and met with an accident, and had to go to an inn, or fell into a bog—or—"
Jean stopped her eager speech. She saw the ironical smile that she so disliked.
"Pray continue," Mr. Desmond said, "and give me a reasonable excuse for handing out some money to be squandered on ribbons and laces and sweetmeats!"
Jean's eyes flashed angrily, but her grandfather stopped her protestations by putting half a sovereign into her hand.
"Now what will you do with it?" he said, not unkindly.
Jean threw back her young head a little defiantly. "Feed my mind and heart," she said.
Mr. Desmond laughed.
"And what food do they require?"
"Books and paints."