"What did you want with references! That woman is mad. If she gives to everybody on the same scale, her pocket will be empty enough when the holidays are over."
"But she gets a great deal of pleasure that way—" Rotha ventured.
"You do, you mean."
"Well, I am not so rich as Mrs. Mowbray," Mr. Busby said; "but I must remember you, Rotha." And he rose and went to a large secretary which stood in the room; for that basement room served Mr. Busby for his study at times when the table was not laid for meals. Three pair of eyes followed him curiously. Mr. Busby unlocked his secretary, opened a drawer, and took out thence a couple of quires of letter paper: 'sought out then some envelopes of the right size, and put the whole, two quires of paper and two packages of envelopes, into Rotha's astonished hands.
"There, my dear," said he, "that will be of use to you."
"What is she to do with it, papa?" Antoinette asked in an amused manner.
"Rotha has nobody to write letters to."
"That may be. She will have writing to do, however, of some kind. You write themes in school, don't you?"
"But then, what are the envelopes for, papa? We don't put our compositions in envelopes."
"Never mind, my dear; the envelopes belong to the paper. Rotha can keep them till she finds a use for them."
"They won't match other paper, papa," said Antoinette. But Rotha collected her wits and made her acknowledgments, as well as she could.