“Certainly, my darling, certainly. Now, that’s what I like; frank confidence on your part. You are the best of housekeepers, my child; but I don’t want you to take all the burden on your shoulders.”
Richmond Hartley sighed, and the line on her broad handsome forehead; took to itself so many puckers, which, however, did not detract from her beauty.
“Well, my dear; speak out. You want something?”
“Yes, father; money.”
“Ah!” said Dr Chartley softly, as he tapped the table with the top of his worn pencil-case. “Money; you want money.”
“Yes, father. I am horribly pressed. Poor Hendon has really not enough to pay for his lunch, and—”
“Yes, my dear; but Hendon will soon be in a position to provide comfortably for himself,” said the doctor blandly.
The old proverb about the growing grass and the starving steed occurred to Richmond, but he only sighed.
“I don’t think you need trouble yourself about Hendon, my dear.”
“But there is the rent, father,” said Richmond desperately, as the full extent of their position flashed upon her; and she felt impelled to speak.