When cheques came in other people seemed to have found their expenses equally high. London tradesmen charge highly for decorating, for assistance. The golden coins paid out for charity went for glitter and show, for gowns and waste. The Ritz had not paid its way. All stall-holders lunched and dined free there. Hunt & Mason sent in a bill of some size.
In a month's time Dollie wanted it all to be forgotten; she sent a cheque to the hospital with all her accounts carefully copied out.
The secretary turned pale as he read the amount. "That!" he said, "that—after it all! And now, for a year's time, if we appeal for funds, people will say, 'But you've just had that bazaar; we went there, bought lavishly, we cannot help again so soon.'
"Miss Harnett," he said heavily to the matron, "we must give up all idea of that west ward; we cannot afford it; or those new reclining chairs and instruments."
He wrote drearily, for his heart was in his work, to Canon Bright.
"All such a splendid success," Dollie's friends had said to her, and kindly Royalty, with its love of true charity, asked her to a select garden-party.
CHAPTER IX
"I am going to Cliff End on Friday, Estelle. Will you come? We'll start at eight, and get back about ten."
"I'd love to. London is baking me."