“Never mind. Don’t ask questions. It’s bad manners.”
Veronica felt annoyed, but she put her pride in her pocket and asked: “If I do what you want me to do—will you tell me then?”
“I shall if you deserve it.”
What a horrid thing to say! How like a holiday governess!—the sort that Veronica and her brother had had last summer.
“We must be gone. You have been wasting our time. Not that time is money to me.”
“Isn’t it? It is to father, though how he makes it into money I don’t know. I have so much time I could make such a lot of money if only I knew how to do it.”
“Money is silly stuff. Look how easily it burns. Only yesterday I saw the kitchenmaid at No. 5 throw a five-pound note on to the fire. She didn’t know what it was, poor silly girl, though she is very clever at washing cups and saucers. Come on now!”
Veronica jumped out of bed, and ran over to the fireplace.
“Do we go up there?” she said, looking at the chimney and then at the dying fire. “Won’t it burn?”
“Not when you are with me. Fire is my servant. I am fire’s lord and master. But if you feel at all nervous I will command it to die.”