"Oh, what a shame!" interrupted Mollie, indignantly.
"Well, the Harfords did not drop him, but somehow he left off going there; and he has never even heard of them for twenty years. I think it upset him rather to have his old life brought up before him so suddenly; it made him feel the difference, don't you see!" and Waveney's voice was a little sad, she could so thoroughly enter into her father's feelings. What a change from the light-hearted young man of fashion, acting Orlando and making love to Rosalind in the green glades of Kitlands, to the shabby, drudging drawing-master, with shoulders already bowed with continual stooping.
Waveney wrote her little note of acceptance the next day. It brought a kind answer from Miss Althea; she was very glad that Miss Ward had decided to come to them. She and her sister would do their best to make her feel at home. Erpingham was so near, and they so often drove into town, that she could see her people constantly. "Please give our kind remembrances to your father, if he has not quite forgotten his old friends," was the concluding sentence.
Waveney handed the note silently to her father; he reddened over the closing words. What a kind, womanly letter it was. The faint smell of lavender with which it was perfumed was not more fragrant than the warm-hearted generosity that had long ago forgiven the slight.
Had he really wounded her by his desertion, or had her vanity merely suffered? How often he had asked himself this question. They had only met once, a week before his wedding, and she had been very gentle with him, asking after Dorothy with a friendliness that had surprised him; for, manlike, he never guessed how even a good woman will on occasion play the hypocrite.
"She is a kind creature," he said, giving back the letter; but his manner was so grave that even Mollie did not venture to say a word.
The girls had a good deal on their minds just then. Waveney's scanty wardrobe had been reviewed, and Mollie had actually wept tears of humiliation over its deficiencies. "Oh, Wave, what will you do?" she said, sorrowfully. "And we dare not ask father for more than a few shillings!"
"No, of course not;" but Waveney's forehead was lined with care as she sat silently revolving possibilities and impossibilities.
What would the Misses Harford think of her shabby old trunk, that had once belonged to her mother? Then she threw back her curly head and looked at Mollie resolutely.
"Mollie, don't be silly. Life is not long enough for fretting over trifles. The Misses Harford know we are poor, so they will not expect smart frocks. I have my grey cashmere for Sundays, and I must wear my old serge for everyday. I will get fresh trimming for my hat, and a new pair of gloves, and——"