“You can manage it perfectly well,” rejoined Letty promptly. “I have nothing to do, and I shall be delighted to take charge of Cara.”
“Oh, miss, you are really too kind! But I couldn’t allow you to do such a thing.”
“I assure you I should really like it,” responded the arch-deceiver. “I am fond of Cara, and I think she is fond of me; so if you care to make your arrangements, there is nothing whatever to prevent you going to the matinée.”
After some half-hearted expostulations, and protestations, the whole thing was settled. Nurse Smithson was to have Saturday afternoon all to herself, from two till seven—so as to have ample time to go up to the camp to tea with her cousin—and as Letty walked back to lunch, she felt as if she was treading on air!
Saturday, and this was Tuesday! She had written to Mrs. Hesketh, who vehemently opposed her scheme; but seeing that Letty was fully determined to kidnap Cara, reluctantly agreed to assist her.
On Wednesday afternoon, she came down to Folkestone, in the hope of talking over her friend,—but this expectation was fruitless. The boot was on the other foot; it was Letty who talked her over! She seemed changed: to have acquired a consciousness of power, an air of graceful assurance, and the faculty of making up her mind!
At dinner, there was a truce between their wrestling personalities, but the new-comer resolved to have it out with her young friend, as subsequently they walked to the band on the lower Leas.
“Remember, Letty, you lose five hundred a year,” she began, à propos de rien, as they approached the rendezvous of hundreds of crowded chairs, the brilliantly lit bandstand, and caught the flashes from Cape Grisnez—illuminating a glassy Channel—starred with the fishing fleet.
“That is true,” assented her companion; “but then, I gain Cara, and, to me, she is worth ten times that sum.”
“Then, my dear, perhaps you will also tell me how you propose to live?” was the dry enquiry.