Florence looked at Brenda and half smiled, but Brenda’s sweet face was very grave.
“Sit down, Florence,” she said: “don’t be impatient. Let us wait until we hear what Mr Timmins has to say.”
“Yes; that is quite right, Brenda,” said Mr Timmins. “Florence, please take your sealskin jacket off, and your hat: you will be much too hot in this room if you don’t.” Florence now hesitated no longer. She took her pretty cap off, pushed back her chestnut hair, and unfastened her sealskin jacket. She then sank book in the easy-chair provided for her by Mr Timmins.
“Now, my dears,” said the good man, “I told you the other day that I would send for you when I had something in my mind’s eye for your benefit; and I think I have something. It is my proposal, therefore, that we shall first of all partake of a little lunch. You must be very hungry, both of you, for I know you started from Langdale at nine o’clock; and afterwards we will go to see Lady Marian Dixie.”
“But what can she want with us?” said Brenda.
“She will tell you herself,” said Mr Timmins, in his grave voice.
“And we have just seventy-five pounds to live on,” said Florence. “It seems a good deal of money, for although, Mr Timmins, although you were always very generous, you did not give us a lot of pocket money; you just bought our clothes for us, and paid our school bills, and paid Mrs Fortescue in the holidays; but we ourselves never had much, had we, Brenda?”
“Good gracious!” said Mr Timmins—he threw up his hands as he spoke—“you cost hundreds a year, girls—hundreds a year.”
“Then,” said Florence, still speaking gravely and taking the lead, which completely astonished her sister Brenda, “don’t you think you did exceedingly wrong to waste all that money on us when you knew that by and by we should have nothing?”
Mr Timmins turned rather red.