They opened the door a little way and peeped in.
They would have been extremely annoyed had they known that Betty had caught a glimpse of them—had taken in the situation at a flash.
They were surprised to hear their father sigh. When he put his head down on the table and sobbed, they stole away.
Indeed, tittering over the details afterwards with friends, they declared, if we may take the word of such as listen at doors, that they were highly amused—that it was near as good as a play....
Betty, tipping the cabman for taking her trunk up to her attic, knocked at Miss Flora Jennyns’ door, entered, and, running to the little old lady’s chair, sank on the footstool at her feet and flung her arms about her knees.
“I have come home,” she said, happy to be with the old gentlewoman again.
Miss Flora put out her hand and stroked the girl’s brown hair; and she smiled through tears.
“I have been very lonely,” she said.
A couple of days after Betty had gone, Mr. Pompey Malahide sat down at his desk, a bland smile upon him, and wrote to his son:
“Dear Horace,
The Tory Chest has, you will perhaps have guessed, received another twenty thousand pounds from me. But one must, as a patriot, make sacrifices for the good of the country. You will, I feel sure, be proud to know that the Malahides—our branch of them—are about to take rank as Baronets.
I regret to state, however, that there has been, at the Carlton, a distinct aloofness of the members of the Upper House towards me personally, since we came in with so large a majority, in so much that I feel, on entering some of these men’s houses, as if I were breathing air that had passed over ice.
On careful consideration over my political ideals, I have lately come to the conclusion (and I have aristocratic precedents for changing my political opinions), that, on receiving my baronetcy, I shall take the first dramatic and telling opportunity to embarrass the Government and go over to the other side of the House.
Your affectionate father,
Pompey Malahide.”