“Has anything happened since we were at home?” asked Frederica anxiously. “Have we grown poor?”
“No, no. Everything is as usual. Indeed, Mr St. Cyr gave me more money than usual. Rents have risen, he says. He was here not a month since, but the money has all gone—‘to pay servants’ wages and old debts,’ Mrs Ascot says. I do not understand how it can be.”
“But, mama, there must be some mistake. I wish I knew about bills and things. Papa ought to examine these. He would understand them. Why should you be vexed about them?”
“My love, there is nothing to understand, he says, but that the bills must be paid; and he says I must ask Mr St. Cyr for more money—that we have not enough to live upon. I cannot do it. It is not in his power to increase it. He gave me more once, but I think, it was his own. It was for Mrs Glencairn. I could not bear that she who is so good to you should be without her money. But I could not ask him again.”
“But, mama,” said Frederica, hesitating, “has papa no money? He goes to the office, and all that—and has he no salary, like other gentlemen?”
“There is many a family kept on less than his income, Mr St. Cyr told me; but the keeping up of the place is expensive; and I cannot ask him. And oh, darling, to think that I should have spoiled your holiday with all this!”
“Mama, don’t you remember how you put these bills away at Christmas, not to vex yourself and us? And here they are again. It is right that I should be vexed with what vexes you, although I am a child.”
“Yes, if you could help me, dear.”
The children had gone out to the garden by this time. Selina sat holding her mother’s hand, listening with a grave face to all that passed.
“Mama,” said she, “Frederica ought to know. She is a child, but she has sense; and, with her to help us, we might be able to understand. Have you the papers, Frederica? Mama read them all at Christmas after you went away, and she gave Madame Ascot money to pay some of them at least, and it cannot be right that they all should come back. There must be some mistake.”