Dick laughed.
“Do you remember where I used to keep my bank-book?” said he. “Torp took it to be balanced just before he went away. Look and see.”
“It was generally under the tobacco-jar. Ah!”
“Well?”
“Oh! Four thousand two hundred and ten pounds nine shillings and a penny! Oh my!”
“You can have the penny. That’s not bad for one year’s work. Is that and a hundred and twenty pounds a year good enough?”
The idleness and the pretty clothes were almost within her reach now, but she must, by being housewifely, show that she deserved them.
“Yes; but you’d have to move, and if we took an inventory, I think we’d find that Mr. Beeton has been prigging little things out of the rooms here and there. They don’t look as full as they used.”
“Never mind, we’ll let him have them. The only thing I’m particularly anxious to take away is that picture I used you for—when you used to swear at me. We’ll pull out of this place, Bess, and get away as far as ever we can.”
“Oh yes,” she said uneasily.