"There you are, then. Two people who know what is good for you, Reggie."
"Francis is in a deuce of a hurry. He wants me to go next week."
"And why not?"
"I don't know why not—now," a miserable Reggie admitted.
"Then go at once and tell him you are ready."
For her word's sake to his brother she wrung a reluctant assent from him, and left him. But an hour later Emily bringing in the tea announced that a gentleman had called to see Miss Deleah.
"You can guess who 'tis," Emily said, as she spread the cloth. "He's in his dog-cart at the door, and his horse that resty, he says he can't come in; but he won't keep Miss Deleah a minute."
Bessie kneeling on the window-seat, was looking down into the street: "It's Reggie, of course," she said. Then she turned round to her sister. "Deleah," she said, "don't be silly; take Reggie. Don't be put off by that stuck-up, conceited old brother; don't trouble any more about me, and things I've said. It's a real chance. The best you'll ever get. Take it."
She had to call the last words over the balusters, for Deleah, paying no heed to her exhortation, was running down the stairs.
Beside Reginald Forcus in his smart dog-cart little Franky Day, to his own delight and surprise, was sitting. He had come running down the street to his tea, when Reggie had accosted him with the agreeable attention of a whip-lash curved round his calves.