“Well, now my father has written at last; he is coming home, immensely rich. He has not heard of my marriage.”
“Laws, you don’t say so!” in a tone of admiration and astonishment.
“No one has heard of it, you see. I had no friends. And if my father knew that I had married a poor man, he would be dreadfully angry—at least at first. I went down to Mrs. Harper’s; she showed me his letter. She thinks I am not married, for,” holding up her bare left hand, “I pawned my rings to pay my railway fare.”
“Oh, my goodness! Did you really, now?”
“And she took it for granted that I was still Miss West. I confessed nothing. I told her I had lived here for fourteen months, that I worked at law stationery, and was very poor, and she was apparently satisfied; but, all the same, I firmly believe she will write and ask you all about me. Neither she nor my father must know of my marriage—yet. And now, are you quite prepared? I am Miss West, you know, who has lived with you since last January year. You understand, Mrs. Kane?”
“Oh yes!” with an expressive wink. “A nice, quiet, respectable young lady—never going nowhere, keeping no company, and I only wishes I had a dozen like her. I’ll give it her all pat, you be quite certain,” said her landlady, rubbing her bare fat arms with the liveliest delight at her own rôle in the piece. “But how about Mr. Wynne and the baby?” she asked slyly.
“You need not mention them. It will be all right later on, when I see my father and prepare him, you know. But now I am obliged to keep him in the dark. Mrs. Harper would not have given me my money, had she known. It’s only for a short time that I am forced to resume my old name, and I assure you, Mrs. Kane, that it’s not very pleasant.”
“Ay, well now, I think it’s rather a joke—something like a play at the Adelphi, where in the end the father comes in and blesses the young couple, and they all live together, happy as sand-boys, ever after. That will be your case, you’ll see!” emphatically.
“I hope so, but I doubt it,” returned her lodger. “I will be content if my husband recovers his health. Money is nothing in comparison to health.”
“Ay, may be so; but money is a great comfort all the same,” said Mrs. Kane, squeezing the note affectionately in her hand, and wondering how many more of the same quality were in Mrs. Wynne’s purse—“a great comfort!”