"Twenty pounds! Why, you know I have not got it."
"Practically you have, and I want it. I want it early to-morrow morning."
"Now, Bertha, you must be mad."
"Not at all; I am abundantly sane. That essay which so excited the spectators to-night was worth twenty pounds. I mean you to buy it from me, and those are my terms."
"You know I cannot. I cannot imagine what you mean by coming to me in this fashion."
"Without twenty pounds I shall be undone," said Bertha; "I need it to pay some debts. If the debts are not paid I shall be exposed, and if I go under, you, my pretty Florence, go under, too—understand that, please. Twenty pounds is cheap at the price, is it not?"
"But I have not got it, Bertha; I would give it you, but I cannot. You might as well ask me for my right hand."
"I tell you the great Mrs. Aylmer will do anything for her pretty and gifted niece. Ask her for the money to-morrow."
"For you?"
"By no means—for yourself."