Presently she started up.
‘Oh, dear me—I’d quite forgotten,’ she exclaimed, and, darting downstairs, returned with a basinful of something that steamed furiously, and a big spoon.
‘There,’ she said, putting it down in front of her husband; ‘now you must have it all. You mustn’t leave a drop.’
‘Why, what the dickens is this, my dear?’ said George, staring at the basin in astonishment.
‘Beef-tea—I made it myself. You must have it to keep your strength up now you work so hard, dear.’
George roared with laughter. The idea of his wanting beef-tea to give him strength to sit on a stool and write names out of a directory in a big book!
But he scalded his throat with a few spoonfuls of the steaming liquid, just to please his wife.
That evening George took Bess out to dinner. Had he not earned ten whole shillings, the first money he had ever earned in his life? Of course he had. Then he had a perfect right to spend fifteen shillings and sixpence at once.
The young couple had a cab home that evening. George had earned ten shillings, and surely he could afford half-a-crown for a cab out of it.
And before they retired to rest that evening Mr. and Mrs. Smith had taken a charming little villa near town, and George had bought a little pony and a basket-carriage for Bess to drive about in, and they had a delightful garden, beautifully kept, and a little conservatory; and George had condescended to make it up with his father, and had sent him an invitation to come and dine with him at his villa.