‘About two. What do you think, Susan? Two would be a good hour, eh?’
‘Yes, a good hour,’ says Susan, without interest. Then, suddenly: ‘Is—are you going to have Bonnie taken?’
‘My dear Susan’—Miss Barry flushes the dull pink of the old when shamed—‘why should we send all our pictures to your uncle at once? It—it would probably confuse him. Another time we may think of that,’ says Miss Barry, who has counted up all her available shillings this morning, to see if it would be possible to send all the children, but had found they fell decidedly short. She would have died, however, rather than confess this to a stranger. ‘Just mine and yours, and—but I am afraid your father will never consent to be taken—and Betty’s and Carew’s—just the eldest ones. You can see, Mr. Crosby, that just the eldest ones will be those most acceptable to their uncle.’
‘Yes, I see,’ says Crosby. He has seen it all, indeed. As if in a dream, Miss Barry’s purse has been laid open to him and the contents made bare. The two shillings for herself, and the two for Susan, and for Betty, and for Carew—eight shillings in all—and after that nothing. He has seen, too, the pride of the poor lady, who would not acknowledge the want of means wherewith to provide photos of the younger children for their uncle abroad, but put her objection to their being taken on the grounds of their youth. He has seen, too, Susan’s face as she hears that Bonnie is not to be taken. Oh, the quick, pained disappointment of it!
‘At two, then,’ says he, ‘we shall meet at the photographer’s.’
‘Yes; two sharp,’ says Miss Barry, who seems quite excited. ‘Susan, I think I shall wear my new lace cap.’
‘I think you ought to wear your hair just as it is now,’ says Crosby to Susan in a low tone, as he bids her good-bye. It is impossible for her to refuse him her hand with her aunt looking on; and though Crosby is aware of this, it is to his shame, I confess, that he takes it and holds it in a warm clasp before he lets it go.
CHAPTER XXXII.
‘But I know best where wringeth me my shoe.’
‘Betty, was I looking frightful?’ asks Susan, drawing her sister away as soon as Crosby is out of sight. ‘Tell me quite the truth. Don’t gloss things over just to please me.’