“So that's the kind of character you've been giving me, is it?” said Missy, smiling grimly. “Now I must see it.”
“Nay, come, I don't think you must, Missy—I don't think you must!”
“But I want to.”
So exclaiming, the girl rose resolutely to her feet; and her resolution settled the matter; for it will have been seen that the weak old man himself was all the time wishing her to see what he had written about her. After all, why should she not know how fond he was of her? If it made her ever such a little bit fonder of him, well, there surely could be no harm in that. Still, Mr. Tees-dale chose to walk up and down the room while Missy stood at the window to read his letter, for it was now growing dark.
“I see you mention that twenty pounds.” Missy had looked up suddenly from the letter. “How was it you managed to get the money that night, after all? I have often meant to ask you.”
Mr. Teesdale stopped in his walk. “What does it matter how I got them, honey? I neither begged, borrowed nor stole 'em, if that's what you want to know.” The old gentleman laughed.
“I want to know lots more than that, because it matters a very great deal, when I went and put you to all that inconvenience.”
“Well, I went to the man who buys all our milk. I told you I was going to him, didn't I?”
“Yes, but I've heard you say here at table that you haven't had a farthing from him these six months.”
“Missy, my dear,” remonstrated the old man, with difficulty smiling, “you will force me to ask you—to mind——”