“I knew you would say that,” she murmured. “Let it be some time next month.”
Chapter XXVI—EARTH AGAIN
ONE day Norma received a polite intimation from her bankers that her account was overdrawn. This had happened before but on previous occasions she had obtained from her father an advance on her allowance and the unpleasant void at the bank had been filled. Now she realised with dismay that the allowance had been cut off, and that no money could come into her possession until the payment of the half-yearly dividend from the concern in which her small private fortune was invested. She looked in her purse and found five shillings. On this she would have to live for three weeks. Her money was in the hands of trustees, wisely tied up by the worldly aunt from whom she had inherited it, so that she could not touch the capital. While she was contemplating the absurdity of the position, the maid brought up a parcel from a draper's on which there was three and eleven pence halfpenny to pay. She surrendered four of her shillings, and disconsolately regarded the miserable one that remained. The position had grown even more preposterous. She actually needed money. She had not even the amount of a cab-fare to Friary Grove. She would not have it for three weeks.
Preposterous or not, the fact was plain, and demanded serious consideration. She would have to borrow. The repayment of the loan and the overdraft would reduce the half-yearly dividend. A goodly part of the remainder would be required to meet an outstanding milliners' bill, not included in the bridal trousseau for which her father was to pay. The sum in simple arithmetic frightened her.
“I am poverty-stricken,” she said to Connie, to whom she confided her difficulties.
Connie blotted the cheque that was to provide for immediate wants, and laughed sympathetically.
“You'll have to learn to be economical, dear. I believe it's quite easy.”
“You mean I must go in omnibuses and things?” said Norma, vaguely.