Phil smiled a little scornfully.
“Is that all she gives?” he said. “That wouldn’t be much to me. I mean if I saw her I know what I’d ask. I’d say, ‘I am a boy, and beauty isn’t of much use to a boy; so please give me instead—money!’”
“Oh, Phil!” exclaimed both the little girls.
“She wouldn’t come to you,” said Kitty in a mournful tone. “She wouldn’t look at any one so avaricious.”
“Besides, Phil,” continued Rachel, “when Avonsyde is yours you’ll be a rich man; and I don’t think,” she added, “that you are quite right when you say that beauty is of no use to a boy; for if you have the kind of beauty the lady gives, it is like a great power, and you can move people and turn them as you will; and of course you can use it for good, Phil.”
“All right,” said Phil, “but I’d rather have money; for if I had money I’d give it to mother, and then I needn’t be heir of Avonsyde, and—and—oh, I mustn’t say! Kitty, I do wish we could go to Southampton again soon. I want to go there on most particular business. Do you think Aunt Grizel will take us before Christmas?”
“Is it about the letter?” asked Kitty. “But you couldn’t have had an answer yet, Phil. There is no use in your going to Southampton before an answer can have arrived.”
“I suppose not,” said Phil in a gloomy voice. “It’s a long, long time to wait, though.”
“What are you waiting for?” asked Rachel.
Phil raised very mournful eyes to her face.