She then went on to say that her sister was not poor and needy at all, but that she lived plain and thought high just because she liked it!
We were very disappointed as soon as we had got over our hardly believing any one could—like it, I mean—and then Mrs. Red House said—
"Sir James gave me five pounds for the poor woman, and she sent back thirty of your shillings. She had spent three and sevenpence, and they had a lovely supper of boiled pork and greens last night. So now you've only got that to make up, and you can buy a most splendid present for Miss Sandal."
It is difficult to choose presents for people who live plain and think high because they like it. But at last we decided to get books. They were written by a person called Emerson, and of a dull character, but the backs were very beautiful, and Miss Sandal was most awfully pleased with them when she came down to her cottage with her partially repaired brother, who had fallen off the scaffold when treating a bricklayer to tracts.
This is the end of the things we did when we were at Lymchurch in Miss Sandal's house.
It is the last story that the present author means ever to be the author of. So goodbye, if you have got as far as this.
Your affectionate author,
Oswald Bastable.
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.