“Ah! those who have no faith to make a venture can never effect any good.”
“You evidently build on a great amount of faith from the public. How do you induce them to believe—do you write in your own name?”
“No, it makes mamma unhappy. I was going to put R. C., but Grace said people would think it meant Roman Catholic. Your sister thought I had better put the initials of Female Union for Lacemaker’s Employment.”
“You don’t mean that Bessie persuaded you to put that?” exclaimed Alick Keith, more nearly starting up than Rachel had ever seen him.
“Yes. There is no objection, is there?”
“Oh, Rachel, Rachel, how could we have helped thinking of it?” cried Grace, nearly in a state of suffocation.
Rachel held up her printed appeal, where subscriptions were invited to the address of F. U. L. E., the Homestead, Avonmouth.
“Miss Curtis, though you are not Scottish, you ought to be well read in Walter Scott.”
“I have thought it waste of time to read incorrect pictures of pseudo-chivalry since I have been grown up,” said Rachel. “But that has nothing to do with it.”
“Ah, Rachel, if we had been more up in our Scotch, we should have known what F. U. L. E. spells,” sighed Grace.