"A pound, uncle!"
"What! a great deal more? Ten pounds?"
"Oh, uncle."
"What! more than ten pounds? Then I don't think even Patience Oriel ought to give it."
"No, of course she would not; but, uncle, it really cost a hundred francs!"
"Oh! a hundred francs; that's four pounds, isn't it? Well, and how much did your last new bonnet cost?"
"Mine! oh, nothing—five and ninepence, perhaps; I trimmed it myself. If I were left a great fortune, I'd send to Paris to-morrow; no, I'd go myself to Paris to buy a bonnet, and I'd take you with me to choose it."
The doctor sat silent for a while meditating about this, during which he unconsciously absorbed the tea beside him; and Mary again replenished his cup.
"Come, Mary," said he at last, "I'm in a generous mood; and as I am rather more rich than usual, we'll send to Paris for a French bonnet. The going for it must wait a while longer I am afraid."
"You're joking."