"What have you done with all your money, I wonder?" said Mrs. Gibson. "You've twenty pounds a year, thanks to Mr. Gibson and me; and I'm sure you haven't spent more than ten."
"I hadn't many things when I came back from France," said Cynthia, in a low voice, and evidently troubled by all this questioning. "Pray let it be decided at once; I can't go, and there's an end of it." She got up, and left the room rather suddenly.
"I don't understand it at all," said Mrs. Gibson. "Do you, Molly?"
"No. I know she doesn't like spending money on her dress, and is very careful." Molly said this much, and then was afraid she had made mischief.
"But then she must have got the money somewhere. It always has struck me that if you have not extravagant habits, and do not live up to your income, you must have a certain sum to lay by at the end of the year. Have I not often said so, Mr. Gibson?"
"Probably."
"Well, then, apply the same reasoning to Cynthia's case; and then, I ask, what has become of the money?"
"I cannot tell," said Molly, seeing that she was appealed to. "She may have given it away to some one who wants it."
Mr. Gibson put down his newspaper.
"It's very clear that she has neither got the dress nor the money necessary for this London visit, and that she doesn't want any more inquiries to be made on the subject. She likes mysteries, in fact, and I detest them. Still, I think it's a desirable thing for her to keep up the acquaintance, or friendship, or whatever it is to be called, with her father's family; and I shall gladly give her ten pounds; and if that's not enough, why, either you must help her out, or she must do without some superfluous article of dress or another."