"What can talents do?"
"Everything; a clever brain commands the world."
"I dare say," retorted Patience ironically, "if it gets money to give it a start. Master Reginald has it in him to make a great name by his voice, but he needs help--the help of money--who will give him that help?"
She eyed the old man keenly as she spoke.
"Ah, who indeed?" he replied carelessly, "who indeed?"
"Why not yourself?" said the housekeeper eagerly.
"I?" he ejaculated in surprise.
"Yes, you," she retorted vehemently. "I was as you say the nurse of that boy. I have loved him far more than his dead parents ever did; they left him to me, and I stood in his mother's place: it is my dearest wish that he should succeed--with money he can do so. I have served you long and faithfully and asked no favour, but now that you have mentioned his name, I ask this first and last favour of you, give him money and help him to succeed."
"Do you think I'm mad?" cried the old man shrilly. "Why should I help him? What is he to me? I have gathered all my wealth by years of self-denial. I want to enjoy it in my next existence, not squander it in this by helping a pauper."
"And yet you talk of the golden hours of youth," she replied bitterly. "It's easy saying, but hard doing. What is a hundred pounds to you?--a drop in the ocean. What is it to him?--everything."