"Yes, there must be some uncle in Australia or Africa, or Klondike, that would send them three hundred pounds."
"I don't know of any such individual. Yes, by the way, there is an old cousin in the Argentine, from whom they expect a legacy. I believe he is a penniless rascal, but they paint him with a coat of gilding and call him, 'dear Cousin Seaton.'" They laughed together like two good comrades.
"He'll do! Mr. Staines, who is very understanding, will get someone to send it from the Argentine, and that will be true. 'Three hundred pounds from a friend in the Argentine for musical training in Germany,' and they'll jump to conclusions!"
"And you want me to abet you in the falsehood?"
"Of course. You will have to belong to the 'poor little disciples,' as St. Francis liked his brothers to be called, and they had to do all sorts of queer commissions."
"Did the 'poor little disciples' have to swallow bare-faced deceptions?"
"I think so, for they couldn't have liked all they had to do and yet they said they did! It is a farce, isn't it? Oh, good-bye, there's Uncle Evas coming, and I'll just walk back with him. He's a little down to-day. Guess he's had to make head against a breeze. He's quite ready for a 'poor little disciple.'"
Lewis could not help laughing. Something in Toney carried all before her, because she never let self get into her plans. Sir Evas brightened up as he met his niece.
"Hulloa! where are you two going? I've had a day among the farms. There's a lot of repairs to be done and they think I must see them all myself."
"So you should, uncle! Tell you what, we'll just titivate them all up and you'll have no more trouble for years."