Mr Farrell turned towards his remaining niece.
“Well, Mollie, and so you also are resolved to leave me?”
“There was only one alternative, Uncle Bernard, and you refused it. If you won’t help mother, we must lose no time in getting to work. We are breaking no promise, remember. We said we would stay if she could spare us, and now the time has come when she needs to have us back.”
“You believe you can find work—work which will pay—a child like you, with the plainest of educations?”
“I am sure of it. I am not going to teach, but I shall be able to do something. I should be ashamed of myself if I couldn’t—a big, strong creature like me! I am sorry to go—much more sorry than you will believe! I’ve been very happy these few weeks.”
“I know you have. I have known more than you are aware of, perhaps. But you will not regret your departure so much, as Jack Melland is leaving at the same time. He has been your special companion, I think.”
The blood flew to Mollie’s cheeks under the scrutiny of the sunken eyes, and, to her consternation, spread even higher and higher, until she was crimson to the roots of her hair. She tried in vain to answer with composure, but could only stammer confusedly—
“He has been very nice. I like him the best—better than Mr Druce. But he decided—we decided,—our reasons for leaving are absolutely independent of each other, Uncle Bernard.”
“I know—I know!”
He turned aside, and remained silent for a few minutes, as if to allow her time to recover composure, then once more held out his hand in farewell.