Hannah came into the room. I looked at Hannah. Her face was quite unsmiling, quite everyday. If it was true Hannah would know—certainly Hannah would know; she would be the last person to be kept in ignorance.
“Why, Miss Dumps—sakes alive, child! You’ll be late for school. Hurry up. Whatever are you pondering about? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. What should be the matter? Hannah, I have got a little money; father left it with me.”
“That’s something queer,” said Hannah. “How much did he give you?”
“Five shillings.”
“My word! Sakes alive! The man must have lost his senses!”
When Hannah said this I rushed up to her, and clasped both her hands, and said, “Oh Hannah, Hannah darling, say that again—say it again!”
“Whatever am I to say over again? I’ve no time to repeat my words.”
“Oh Hannah, do say it once more! Father has lost—”
“What little sense he ever had,” said Hannah. “Don’t keep me, Dumps.”