“Not of the income. I had a sum of five hundred pounds left me, for a specific purpose—to complete my medical education. Mother, I have never grumbled at this; never. It was my father’s will and pleasure that the whole should be yours, and that it should go to your children after you; and I am content to think that he did for the best; the house was obliged to come to me; it had been so settled at my mother’s marriage; but you have continued to live in it, and I have not said you nay.”
“It is like you to remind me of all this!”
“I could remind you of more,” he rejoined, chafing at her unjust words, her resentful manner. “That for years I impoverished myself to help you to augment this income. Three parts of what I earned, before my partnership with Mr. Tamlyn, I gave to you.”
“Well, I needed it. Do, for goodness’ sake, let the past alone, if you can: where’s the use of recalling it? Would you have us starve? Would you see me taken off to prison? And that’s what it will come to, unless I can get some money to pay up with. That table-drawer that you’ve got your elbow on, is full of bills. I’ve not paid one for these six months.”
“I cannot think what it is you do with your money!”
“Do with my money! Why, it goes in a hundred ways. How very ignorant you are, Arnold. Look at what dress costs, for myself and four girls! Look at what the soirées cost! We have to give all sorts of dishes now; lobster salads and raspberry creams, and all kinds of expensive things. Madame St. Vincent introduced that.”
“You must put down the soirées and the dress—if you cannot keep them within the bounds of your income.”
“Thank you. Just as I had to put down the pony-carriage and James. How cruel you are, Arnold!”
“I hope I am not. I do not wish to be so.”
“It will take two hundred pounds to set me straight; and I must have it from you, or from somebody else,” avowed Mrs. Knox.