Mrs Fortescue stared at her elderly servant. “What do you mean?” she said. “Give me your reasons.”
“Well, madam, to tell you the truth—I don’t like treating ladies, just because they ain’t as rich as one expected them to be, with ham bones for breakfast. You will get some one else to help you when the new ladies come, madam,” and Bridget flounced out of the room.
Meanwhile, Mr Timmins met the girls at the station. He took them up to town first-class and treated them with great respect and consideration. Florence could not help whispering to Brenda—
“Seeing that we are so very poor, it does seem absurd that we should always travel first-class.”
“It’s Mr Timmins’ way,” said Brenda. “I don’t think he’d like,” she added, “Lady Marian to know that we travelled in any other way.”
“Well, we shall have to in the future,” said Florence; “and,” she added, “as far as I am concerned, I think it is almost more exciting to be poor. It is so delightful to manage. You can’t imagine, Brenda, what fun Susie and I had contriving the dinners, more particularly the bone dinners.”
“What are you talking about, children?” said Mr Timmins, waking up from a nap in which he had temporarily indulged.
Florence went and sat by his side and told him the story of the bone dinner.
“They are so delicious!” she said. “I never enjoyed anything more.”
Mr Timmins seemed much interested in the story.