“Sir Matthew says I must learn how to manage money and to understand the value of things,” said Evereld. “So we will go out to-morrow morning, Bridget, together, and I shall choose you a black silk dress by way of learning.”
“Why then, dearie, it’s for your own dress and not for mine that you must be spending this upon,” protested Bridget.
“It’s to do what I like with, Nursie, and I like to get you the very nicest gown we can find,” said Evereld.
“Well, well, dearie, you were always one to think of other folk first, and if you will be getting me a dress, let it be a black poplin for the sake of the old country.”
So Bridget and her young mistress set forth the next morning and chose the best Irish poplin, warranted to wear for a life-time, and Evereld changed her cheque into twenty crisp five pound notes, eighteen of which Bridget securely sewed up for her that evening in an inner pocket.
“There’s many things you may be wanting to buy if you come back through Paris,” she said, “let alone its being a bad plan to leave the money behind you here.”
Evereld sighed a little; it somehow hurt her to remember that she had all this money for her personal wants and fancies, while Ralph thought himself extremely lucky to be earning three pounds a week. She had, however, a shrewd suspicion that he perhaps found more satisfaction out of the money he had honestly worked for, and she eagerly looked forward to the time when they could share her fortune and make it of real use.
The next morning the whole house was in a bustle, and the atmosphere seemed less oppressive than on the previous night. Sir Matthew, though looking ill and harassed, brightened up when Evereld appeared ready dressed for the journey in a trim little navy blue coat and skirt, a light blue shirt and a dainty white sailor hat. She looked so fresh and innocent and happy that for the time he quite forgot his schemes in the pleasure of just looking at her.
It was not until they were on the platform at Victoria, and he saw Bruce Wylie approaching, that he remembered how necessary it was that by the time Evereld returned to London she should be safely betrothed to her solicitor. The thought made him glance critically at his friend. As it happened Bruce Wylie never showed to more advantage than at such a time as the present. His well cut grey travelling suit and knickerbockers made him appear much younger than he really was, his fair hair and trim beard, his merry grey eyes, his easy, pleasant manner were all in his favour.
“It will be right enough,” reflected Sir Matthew, “The girl will be properly in love with him long before the end of the tour.”