“I don’t mean to say anything at all, I have nothing to confide, so don’t imagine it for a single moment. But at the seaside, where the gay people will be, and the band will play, and there’ll be no end of tea out of doors and all sorts of fun of one sort and another, it may happen that—that—somebody may see your Brenda and—oh, Fanchon, need I say any more!”
“I don’t suppose you need,” was Fanchon’s answer. She felt immensely flattered.
“Think what it would mean to me,” continued Brenda. “A prince might come along, who would fall in love with the beggar maid.”
“But you—with your blue silk dress, to be called a beggar maid! That name might suit poor Nina, who can’t have flounces, even, to her pink muslin dress that only cost sixpence three farthings a yard.”
Brenda was startled at Fanchon’s memory with regard to the price of the muslin.
“No,” continued that young lady, “you’re not a bit like the beggar maid.”
“Ah, but—my dear girl—I am the beggar maid, and I am waiting for the king to come along who will raise me to sit on his throne, and—in fact—I am going to whisper a great secret to you, Fanchon—”
“What is it?” said Fanchon, who was at once fretful and disgusted, overpowered with curiosity, and yet heartily wishing that Brenda would not confide in her.
“Well—I will tell you,” said Brenda. “I have been left a little money—just the merest little trifle, and I am spending a little of it on my blue silk, and I don’t want any one to know but just my own darling Fanchon; my eldest pupil—who loves me so well! Perhaps, my chérie, I may buy you a pretty gift out of some of the money. What do you say to a little gold bracelet—a bangle, I mean?”
Brenda remembered that she could get a silver gilt bracelet for a couple of shillings at a shop she knew of at Rocheford, and that it would be worth her while to purchase Fanchon’s sympathy at that price.