"Won't you sit down?" I said.
"No, thank you, I prefer standing. I only sit when I have a good deal on my mind. What is it you have come to say?"
I wished she would help me, but she had evidently no intention of doing so. She stood there with her red face and her twinkling eyes, and her broad, good-humoured mouth, the very personification of homely strength, but she was not going to get me out of my difficulty.
"Well," I said, stammering and colouring, "I have been thinking over your visit, and—and——"
"Yes, go on."
"Do you really mean it, Miss Mullins?" I said then. "Would you really like to join two such ignorant people as mother and me?"
"Hark to her," said the good woman. "Look here, Miss Wickham, you have reached quite the right frame of mind, and you're not a bit ignorant, my dear, not a bit, only your knowledge and my knowledge are wide apart. My dear Miss Wickham, knowledge is power, and when we join forces and put our united knowledge into the same bag, we will have huge results, huge results, my dear—yes, it is true."
"Let us talk it out," I said.
"Do you really mean, Miss Wickham, that you and your mother—your aristocratic mother—are seriously thinking of entering into partnership with me?"
"I don't know about mother, but I know that I am leaning very much towards the idea," I said; "and I think I ought to apologise, both for my mother and myself, for the rude way in which we treated you yesterday."