“That is true,” answered Susie, who might have retorted, “No more do you,” but it was not her habit ever to say anything unkind.
“Well,” said Mrs Fortescue, “I suppose I must be going. I have to meet the dear girls, and they will have lots to tell me. In all probability, Susie, I shall be leaving Langdale myself this spring, for no doubt Mr Timmins will wish me to undertake the chaperonage of my two sweet girls until they marry. I look to their both making great matches, with their wealth and good looks; for they are both good-looking. They ought to do exceedingly well in the marriage market.”
“If you mean by that,” said Susie, the colour rushing into her face, “that they will marry men worthy of them—I mean good in the best sense of the word—good, and true and brave, then I trust they will. But if you mean anything else, Mrs Fortescue; if you mean men who will seek them for their wealth—for I presume they are rich, although really I know nothing about it, and what is more, I don’t care—then I sincerely trust they won’t marry that sort of man.”
“Oh,” said Mrs Fortescue, “you don’t understand—you don’t care whether they are rich or not—”
“Not one scrap,” said Susie. “How can riches add to the brightness of Florence’s eyes or the affection of Brenda’s manner? But if riches make them a little more comfortable, I hope they will have sufficient, though we don’t require much money, do we, Mrs Fortescue? I know that is not what the world would call rich,” (Mrs Fortescue hated Susie for making this remark) “and most certainly father and I are not. We just contrive and contrive, and always have enough for a jolly Christmas dinner when we can really entertain our friends. I don’t believe any two people in all the world are happier than my darling dad and myself, and it doesn’t come from riches, for we have to be very careful. Oh, no; rich people are not the happiest, I do assure you on that point.”
Mrs Fortescue could not help saying, “I do not agree with you, Susie,” and she could not help giving a contemptuous glance at the old-fashioned, very plump little figure with the red face and honest round eyes. But having eaten as much as she could of Susie’s very excellent food, and found it quite impossible to draw Susie Arbuthnot into any conversation of what she considered a truly interesting nature, she left the house and amused herself doing some shopping until it was time to go to the railway station to meet the girls.
There Florence alone confronted her—Florence, with a white and anxious face, although all trace of that fit of weeping which had overcome her when she parted from Brenda had disappeared from her features.
“Why, Flo—Flo, darling! Where is your sister? Where is my Brenda?”
“Brenda is staying for a few days with Lady Marian Dixie.”
“But I knew nothing of this. She did not take up any clothes.”