"I will," said Robert Ferguson; but added, under his breath, "I sha'n't give up, you know." Mrs. Richie was careful not to hear him.
"Elizabeth!" she said, eagerly. "Your uncle has some news for you." And Mr. Ferguson told his niece briefly, that on her birthday in December she would come into possession of some money left her by her father.
"Don't get up your expectations, it's not much," he said, charily, "but it's something to start on."
"Oh, Uncle! how splendid!" she said, and caught David's hand in both of hers. "David!"—her face was radiantly unconscious of the presence of the others: "perhaps we needn't wait two years?"
"I'm afraid it won't make much difference." David spoke rather grimly; "I must be able to buy your shoestrings myself, you know, before we can be married."
Elizabeth dropped his hand, and the dimple straightened in her cheek.
Mrs. Richie smiled at her. "Young people have to be prudent, dear child."
"How much money shall I have, Uncle?" Elizabeth asked coldly.
He told her. "Not a fortune; but David needn't worry about your shoestrings."
"Yes, I will," he broke in, with a laugh. "She'll have to go barefoot, if I can't get 'em for her!"