“Ah, here you are, father!” she cried, going over to the hearthrug and dropping down before the fire. “Why didn’t you come in to breakfast? Didn’t you hear the gong? Dick went off at eight, and I’ve had to feed all alone. The bacon is cold by now, I expect; but go and have some. I’ll wait here for you. I’ve got something to tell you.”
“I don’t want any breakfast, my child. I want to have a talk with you. It’s a long time since we had a chat, Netty. You’re getting almost as much a social personage as your mother. Very soon, there’ll be no one to keep the house warm, except the old man.”
“You mustn’t call yourself old. You’re not even respectably middle-aged. But what do you want to talk to me about?”
“Money, my dear, money.”
“Money! Oh, dear! no—nothing so horrid. This is a red-letter day for me; and, when you talk about money, it turns everything gray.”
“Yes, yes, I know it’s not a pleasant subject; but, you see, we must talk about it, sometimes. You’ve been attending to the house-keeping lately, and I want you to try and cut down the expenses. I’ve had bad news this morning, news which I shall have 56 to worry your mother about. By the way, what is she doing now?”
“I hope she’s asleep. You mustn’t worry her, you really mustn’t. She’s had a dreadful night, and her head’s awful—and you mustn’t worry me. The house-keeping is all right. It worried me, I hate it so. Jane’s doing it, and she’s more than careful—she’s mean. And, now, my news. Can’t you guess it? No, you’ll never guess. Look!” the girl held out her hand.
“And what am I to look at?”
“Can’t you see?—the ring! It’s been in his family hundreds of years; but it’s nothing compared to the other jewels; they are magnificent, worth a king’s ransom. Why don’t you say something—something nice and pretty and appropriate? You know you can make awfully nice speeches when you like, father—and I’m waiting for congratulations.”
“Congratulations on having received a present? And who gave it to my Persian?” asked the rector, absently.