“Oh no, Annie; it isn’t mine at all.”
“Well, at least you have done the writing of it; if the thoughts are mine, the penmanship is yours. Come, Mabel, don’t be a goose. Everything is in progress, and you’ll be as happy as the day is long by this time to-morrow.”
“You forget that I have still to get that horrid money.”
“Of course you have; but as you seem so nervous and faint-hearted, you had much better write a little note now to Mrs Priestley. I will light one of the candles, and you can get that over. I will take it to-morrow afternoon, and trust me not to return without your thirty pounds safe and sound. But the one thing which must be settled, and positively settled, is my little part. You have got solemnly to promise that I shall spend the summer holidays with you.”
“Suppose Aunt Henrietta refuses.”
“But she is not to refuse, Mabel. If this thing were completed and I found that you had backed out of your honourable bargain with me, I should find it my duty to— Oh Mabel, need I go on?”
“No, no,” said Mabel, “you needn’t; I understand you. I don’t expect I shall be as happy as I thought, even if I have my year of liberty; but still, I suppose I must make the best of a bad bargain, and of course I should like to have you with me in Paris.”
“It will be necessary for you to have me with you, if you are to manage the money for the two remaining terms,” said Annie.
“Very well; I will agree, I will agree.”
“You promise that I shall spend the holidays with you?”