"Who says so?" asked the vicar, furiously.
"Prudence tells me that her brother will not do anything, but passes his time in idleness, and constantly comes to you for money. As he is over thirty years of age, he certainly should support himself."
"Poor Frank cannot help his misfortunes."
"I rather think that a man's misfortunes are, as a rule, of his own making, Mr. Clarke. Your own, for instance. You have three hundred a year and a free house. That ought to keep you out of debt; but if you will give all your money to Frank, what can you expect?"
"My dear--my dear," said Mr. Clarke, testily, "a girl like you can't understand these things."
"Oh, yes, I can. Since Uncle Henry has been ill all these years, I have had a great deal to do with business."
The vicar started. "I thought Mr. Barras was your guardian's lawyer."
"So he is. He attends to everything, but Uncle Henry rarely sees Mr. Barras himself, so I have to attend to necessary matters."
"Why doesn't Ferdinand--?"
"Ferdinand!" Clarice made a gesture of contempt.