"Your father! My dear May, your father hasn't paid a penny piece for you since you were seven years old."
May was silent for a minute or so. She could not help some bitter thoughts of her father, but it was not for her to utter them. At length she said—
"I cannot go on accepting my grandmother's sacrifice, Uncle Frederick. I will not."
It occurred to Mr. Dormer-Smith, as it had occurred to his wife, that May's affection for Mrs. Dobbs might supply the fulcrum they wanted for their lever. He answered—
"Well, my dear, I don't blame your feeling, though it is a little overstrained, perhaps. But you have it in your own power to more than pay back all Mrs. Dobbs has done for you."
"How?" asked May innocently.
"Why, I am sure Mr. Bragg would be only too delighted——"
"Oh, Mr. Bragg! I was not thinking of Mr. Bragg, and I would rather not talk of him just now."
This was a little too much. Mr. Dormer-Smith's face assumed a very serious, not to say severe, expression as he looked at his niece and said—
"Excuse me, May, but you must think of him, and talk of him also. That was the subject I sent for you to speak about. I don't know how we have drifted away from it. Your aunt tells me that you have not actually refused Mr. Bragg, but merely stopped him from proposing to you. Now, if that is the case, the matter is not past mending. No doubt Mr. Bragg may feel a little offended."