Mr. Beckford was a tall thin man, slow of speech, and so wonderfully cautious that he never said or did any thing, without looking at both sides of it a great many times over. Consequently, Mrs. Fletcher had time to form more than one conjecture as to what could have brought the publisher to see her, before he finally arrived at saying—
"Your little daughter, madam, has been talking to my nieces with regard to executing some work for me, and they have shown me a specimen of her capacity."
Here Mr. Beckford made a full stop, and Mrs. Fletcher, much surprised, wondered what was to be coming next.
"I am much pleased with the specimen of her work which I hold in my hand," he resumed, after a pause of a minute; "and with your approval should be glad to give her full employment for a week or two."
Mrs. Fletcher was not entirely without false pride more than other people, and her face flushed a little.
But she had time to conquer the feeling, while Mr. Beckford slowly rolled up the paper and continued:
"I would not of course make any bargain with her without the approval of her parents."
"I will speak to my daughter, if you please," said Mrs. Fletcher.
And she went into the kitchen where sat Ethel, looking very anxious, and wondering what the conference could be about.
To her mother's question, she related what had taken place, adding: "It is such pretty work, mother, and I should like to earn some money so much. I hope you will not have any objection."