"My dear shabby little old man, don't be absurd. I saw Mrs. Emery about Grace. She is willing to apprentice her at once."
"It's too soon. The child is only twelve."
"Nearly thirteen. Of course, it's too soon, but what are we to do?"
"I don't know—I don't know. I do not like to give my daughter so poor an education."
"She's a dunce, anyhow. We must think about it. Mrs. Emery says she will only charge a nominal fee, as she has such a high opinion of her dancing, and finds her such a help already."
"That's a relief. I thought—I was afraid I might have to apply to George for a loan. I should not like to do that."
"He came here yesterday," Nancy said reluctantly, "and hinted again. I wish he'd marry someone."
"My dear, it may come to asking him to live here. It would be a great help, and—I hope I am not pessimistic, but I foresee misfortune. It must be faced—I am a failure, Nancy. My commissions are getting smaller every year. They are bound to remove me soon. I could not blame them. They may give me a clerkship at a paltry income. And there is Theresa's education."
"And Grace's stockings!" said Nancy. "But oh, Edward, George is dreadful! I might do without a servant."
"That's impossible." He spoke with a rare decision. "We must do our best, Nancy."