“You’ve heard?” said Miss Pinnegar dramatically.
“I heard somethink,” said Mrs. Rollings.
“Sold up! Everything to be sold up. Every stick and rag! I never thought I should live to see the day,” said Miss Pinnegar.
“You might almost have expected it,” said Mrs. Rollings. “But you’re all right, yourself, Miss Pinnegar. Your money isn’t with his, is it?”
“No,” said Miss Pinnegar. “What little I have put by is safe. But it’s not enough to live on. It’s not enough to keep me, even supposing I only live another ten years. If I only spend a pound a week, it costs fifty-two pounds a year. And for ten years, look at it, it’s five hundred and twenty pounds. And you couldn’t say less. And I haven’t half that amount. I never had more than a wage, you know. Why, Miss Frost earned a good deal more than I do. And she didn’t leave much more than fifty. Where’s the money to come from—?”
“But if you’ve enough to start a little business—” said Alvina.
“Yes, it’s what I shall have to do. It’s what I shall have to do. And then what about you? What about you?”
“Oh, don’t bother about me,” said Alvina.
“Yes, it’s all very well, don’t bother. But when you come to my age, you know you’ve got to bother, and bother a great deal, if you’re not going to find yourself in a position you’d be sorry for. You have to bother. And you’ll have to bother before you’ve done.”
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” said Alvina.