“On the contrary, I quite approved. It is almost essential for your own comfort and convenience it you wish to enjoy a country life.”
“Yes! so we thought. But there is one great objection. We have no habits.”
“Indeed!”
“No; of course, we have never ridden at home.”
“I presume not.”
“And we cannot ride without habits. Emma, the maid, suggested that Mrs Thornton might lend us her daughters’ just for a few days; but we cannot keep them long.”
“Certainly not!”
Mr Farrell made his remarks with an air of polite indifference, which was peculiarly baffling. It was evident that no lead was to be expected from him, and that Mollie would have to put her request in the plainest possible words. Her lips were pressed together in a momentary hesitation between embarrassment and laughter; then she thought of the lecture she would receive from Ruth if her errand ended in failure, and grew strong again. Her eyes met those of Uncle Bernard still fixed intently on her face.
“I wanted to ask you what we were to do about them, and about clothes altogether! You know we are very poor. Ruth and I have fifteen pounds a year to dress on. You have never been a girl, so you don’t understand what that means; but though we can get along on that at home and could look respectable for a few days’ visit, we can’t manage as we are for three whole months, especially when you wish us to go about, and have parties here, and meet your friends on their own terms. We have only those black evening-dresses which you saw last night, and girls can’t always wear the same things, as a man does his dress suit.”
“I suppose not.”