MRS. WHEEDLES.
No, my dear, I am sorely afraid he won't pass—sorely afraid. But there, you can never tell, and one should always look on the bright side of things, they say. (Beginning to cry.)
NELLY MORRIS.
You don't help one to do so very much, Mrs. Wheedles.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
I never like to see anyone too sanguine, my dear. He doesn't eat enough to keep himself well, and you won't let me send a little bit of anything up now and then.
NELLY MORRIS.
How can we, you kind old soul, when we owe you as much as we do already? And Heaven knows how we shall ever be able to pay you if he doesn't pass.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
Ah, you don't like to feel that you owe anything to a poor old lodging-house keeper. I only wish all of them were as considerate. I'd be better off than I am. But suppose, now, it didn't come out of my pocket, but from someone who could well afford it—who—was rich—and who——