"There is no need to send for her either. I have a good memory, and have verified most of the items. The bill is large, but then it has been running on for eighteen months. I only want to know how you propose to settle it."
CHAPTER XVI.
AVERIL'S STEP-MOTHER.
As Averil asked this question in her usual quiet manner, her step-mother's perturbation increased; she was brought face to face with an unexpected difficulty—and Mrs. Willmot hated any sort of complication. To eat, drink, and be merry were important items in her code. She was indolent, and liked comfort, and, as she said, "Her girls were too much for her."
"What shall you do?" reiterated Averil, patiently, as Mrs. Willmot only sighed and looked unhappy.
"I think I am the most miserable woman alive," she returned, stung to weak exasperation by Averil's quiet persistence. "You have no pity for me, Averil; and yet I was your father's wife, and a good wife, too. What is the good of asking me to settle this infamous bill—for infamous it is, as I mean to tell Madame—when I have not a hundred pounds left, in the bank, and that boy is always drawing on me?"
"Do you mean Rodney?" interposed Averil, eagerly. "Let us leave this bill for a moment while I speak to you of him. Has he answered Mr. Harland's letter?" For two days previously a letter had come to Rodney from the lawyer, offering him a post in Canada that promised to be very remunerative in the future. Mr. Harland had spoken very warmly of the advantages attaching to such a situation, and Averil had indorsed this opinion. The letter had arrived early on the morning of her reception; but, in spite of all her business, she had talked for more than half an hour to both Rodney and her step-mother, begging them to close at once with the offer. Rodney seemed rather in favor of it: to use his own phrase, he thought Canadian life would be "awfully jolly," and he promised to talk his mother over; but until now Averil had heard nothing.
"Has Rodney written to Mr. Harland?" she asked again, as Mrs. Willmot hesitated, and seemed unwilling to answer.
"Yes, he has written," she said, at last, when Averil compelled her to speak. "I declare, you make me so nervous, Averil, sitting opposite me, and questioning me in that jerky fashion, that I hardly know how to answer."