“Well, I’ve heard all about your wonderful luck!” she began excitedly, “and how Mr. Levison has actually paid you three hundred pounds for that frightful figure.”
“Yes, so he did; it’s a true bill.”
“And now, my dear boy; you will be able to help me with my trousseau,” said this daughter of a horse-leech, “I must really get good frocks. Mr. L. is so sharp, and notices everything, and can tell the price of a gown to a sixpence; he has wonderful taste, and is very particular. You must let me have fifty or sixty to begin with—it’s not much out of three hundred pounds. What a windfall!”
“Oh, but I have already divided it with Mrs. Malone,” replied Douglas; “she insisted upon my taking half—you see, the figure was hers.”
“Divided it with Mrs. Malone!” screamed his mother. “What a mean, grasping, greedy old hag! I shall speak to her about it and make her disgorge. She has no right to your money; whilst I am your mother!”
“I do beg you won’t interfere. Mrs. Malone is the most generous woman I know.”
“Generous!” echoed Mrs. Shafto. “The greatest old skinflint in London—she charges me sixpence a day for having my breakfast in bed, and——”
“Well, you will soon be out of it,” interrupted her son impetuously, “and so shall I! And I am glad to have an opportunity now of telling you that I have got promotion in the office and am going to Burma.”
“Oh! are you? Burma—Burma! Why, that’s abroad—some place near India—or is it the West Indies?”
“You are thinking of Bermuda. Burma is east of India. I have to pay for my passage and outfit, and this unexpected windfall is a wonderful bit of luck. If I hadn’t got it, I never could have accepted the post, or made a new start.”