Love in a Muddle

by Christine Jope-Slade

"I came because I have to get five hundred pounds from somewhere at once."

"I haven't fifteen shillings, mother; why come to me? and what is it for?"

"Your father," answered mother; her lips were compressed. "He must have it immediately. He owes to his C.O.—and there are complications. He—" she paused and frowned—"he was always a vile bridge-player. His declarations were crimes."

"Yes," I said. "But why come to me?"

"You must borrow it from Captain Markham or Cheneston."

I stared at her! This morning she seemed no longer handsome, her elegance was the only thing left to her—and that seemed just a physical and social mark.

"It is impossible," I said, "absolutely! Captain Markham is desperately ill!"

"Then there is Cheneston."

"Absolutely impossible!"

"He would give it to you in gratitude for the way you've played the game. If you don't you force me to take it with my own hands—you see, we should have had the money but for the amount we have spent on you lately."