"Yes, tell Effie," he said.
"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you."
"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an awfully fine fellow."
George laughed as he spoke.
"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which he thinks I require."
"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!" She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw her arms round his neck, and kiss him.
"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so badly."
George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's.
"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?"
"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying.