"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's condition."
"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that wretched man? We might, indeed, do something for him."
"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your personal pronouns."
"I meant mamma and I might, of course."
"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do with it—nor even you. This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey for a service he did me lately."
Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm.
"And me too," she said softly.
"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and we will reward him. But not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened."
"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note. It did better than the one I tore up."
"What was that? Did you tear one up?"