As for the little 'nut-browne mayd' who studied destiny in the fire, she merely glanced up at him in answer to this appeal; and with a shake of the head as if fairy tales and he were indeed hopelessly disconnected, returned to her musings. Then suddenly burst forth—
'I am so puzzled about the colour of my new travelling dress! "Contrasts," and "harmonies," and all that stuff, belong to the pink and white people. But pink and brown—Mr. Falkirk, do you suppose I can find anything browner than myself, that will set me off, and do?—I can't travel in gold colour.'
'You want to have as much as possible the effect of a picture in a frame?'
'Not at all, sir. That is just what I want to avoid. The dress should be a part of the picture.'
'I don't doubt it will be!' said Mr. Falkirk sighing. 'Before you set out, my dear, had you not better invest your property? so that you could live upon the gathered interest if the capital should fail.'
'I thought it was invested?' said the girl, looking up.
'Only a part of it,' replied Mr. Falkirk. 'Nothing but your money.'
'Nothing but!' said Wych Hazel. 'Why what more have I, Mr.
Falkirk?'
'A young life,' said her guardian,—'a young and warm heart,— good looks, an excellent constitution, a head and hands that might do much. To which I might add,—an imagination.'
'My dear Mr. Falkirk,' said the girl laughing, 'I shall want them all to pay my travelling expenses. All but the last—and that is invested already, to judge by the interest.'