“Yes, it does,” said Uncle Alfred.
It was such a long while since Rose had heard any one, herself excepted, utter a flat contradiction, that she felt quite surprised, and she admitted to herself in that moment that such a form of intercourse was, after all, lacking in charm.
“Call it ten shillings a week, Uncle Alfred, and let’s be done with it.”
“Half a guinea, Rose.”
“Oh, well, half a guinea then.”
“And I shall be very glad of your company, my dear niece,” said the old man, suddenly affable. “The Lord loveth a cheerful giver, and I trust that you will never find me anything else. Of course, you’ll be ready to lend Felix a hand with the silver cleaning in the mornings?”
“Yes—well—all right. But one of these days, quite soon, Dr. Lucian, that I told you about, is going to try and find me some work during the term-time, that I can do.”
“Charity begins at home,” said Uncle Alfred.
Rose laughed, her ready, easy laughter. She was quite willing to help Felix in cleaning the silver from the shop, and although she sincerely intended to undertake any work which Lucian might suggest to her, there was at the back of her mind an unformulated idea that circumstances might arise which would render such a course unnecessary.
When she had paid a visit to Hurst, at Mrs. Lambert’s cordial suggestion, and found Cecil stronger-looking and more animated than she had ever seen him, Rose realized herself to be happier than she had been for many years.