“I have saved two hundred pounds. Here are seats—what a crowd! I’ll pay the collector—it’s only coppers.”
Mrs. Hesketh, not a whit propitiated, went on to state that two hundred pounds in the hands of a girl who knew nothing of money, would not go far.
“Though,” she added, “of course I will help you.”
“No, no indeed,” protested Letty, putting down a strange dog that had sprung into her lap. “By and by I hope to earn my living, and I will ask you to draw, and to forward the interest on my legacy, and also to sell my pearls, my mother’s necklace. They are valuable; an Indian Rajah gave them to my father for something he had done—saved him from an assassin, I believe.”
“Nonsense! No, I don’t mean about your father,” said her companion impatiently. “I have a plan; that is to say, if you are bent on carrying out this act of lunacy?”
“I am—oh, dearest cousin Maudie, I must! You are strong and all-sufficient for yourself. I am a weak, invertebrate creature.”
“Invertebrate—good word!” interrupted her friend.
“And I must have something to live for—something to love.”
“You had Lancelot Lumley.”
“That’s different! I would only bring him shame and trouble; but Cara is mine. I will rescue her, form her character as well as ever I can,—and make her happy.”