Then, with an effort, he quitted the room, ran lightly down the stairs, and was soon in his uncle’s private room, engaged with him in earnest conversation.
In the meantime, Lotte busied herself at the sacrifice of at least a dozen cap fronts, or rather half a dozen hours, to be replaced by six taken out of those devoted by her during the week to sleep, in conferring with Flora as to the course she would have to pursue when all the furniture was swept away, and she was left penniless and destitute.
“Have you no relations in London?” inquired Lotte; “because if you have only one or two, I will pop on my bonnet and mantle, and run to them very quickly. Let them be who they may, they would surely afford you some help.”
“I never heard my father speak even of one in London or elsewhere,” returned Flora. “We have lived very secluded while here. We have not always lived thus. I can remember dwelling in a large house, with beautiful furniture, mirrors, chandeliers, and gorgeous decorations; lovely gardens, with fountains and flowers. But that is long, long ago. I know not when, I know not why, we left it, or when or how we came here. It seems to me that I awakened from a dream of faëryland, to find myself in these poor apartments, and my poor father destroying his life by the deadly closeness of his application to his labour.”
“You know, then, of no relations you could ask to help you?” said Lotte.
“None,” replied Flora.
“Nor friends whose assistance you might ask?” Flora shook her head.
“Have you any money to go on with?”
“A little, which for safety is placed”——
“Where I want to know nothing about it,” interposed Mr. Nutty, abruptly. “See here—when I put down in my hin-vent-ory any harticle, you daren’t touch it arterwards; leastwise, you must give it up as I’ve put it down; but you know you can do as you like with anything as I don’t put down. Do you tumble?”