“Yes; a legacy. That is what I really went about last night.”
The information so staggered her that her voice became quite deferential.
“Is it much, Becky?”
“A clear three hundred pounds,” I replied, “and perhaps a little more. I shall know for a certainty in a week or two.”
“You’ll be giving me notice presently, I daresay, Becky, now you’ve come into money.”
“Not unless you want to get rid of me,” I replied.
“Becky,” said Mrs. Preedy, graciously, “I am very satisfied with you. You can remain with me as long as you like, and when we part I hope we shall part friends.”
“I hope so too, mum; and I hope you’ll think none the worse of me because I’ve been so fortunate. I should like to hear of your having such a slice of luck.”
“Thank you, Becky,” said my mistress, meekly, “but I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”