‘But I wanted to speak to you first,’ I stammered. ‘I should be sorry to inconvenience you; but—but—I want frilling and such a lot of little things, Mr. Lovett; and—Mr. Warrington mentioned to me, you know, the arrangement you made with him about it, and—_could you let me have a little money, just to go on with?_’ The murder was out at last! I had made as much fuss over it as if I had been asking a favour, instead of demanding a right; but it was over—the tooth was out, and I breathed again. What had Mr. Lovett to say in answer? At first, for the merest moment, I fancied that a flush of surprise or displeasure passed over his handsome features; but, if so, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing behind but his own frank, benevolent expression. ‘Certainly, my dear girl, certainly. Why did you not mention it to me before? I shall be exceedingly annoyed if you delay asking for it one day after it is due. Let me see! When _was_ it due?’ ‘I am not sure. It depends entirely upon how you intend to pay it to me. I have only been here two months, you know, Mr. Lovett.’ ‘Ah! Just so. And I generally give my girls their allowance every quarter. Still, it makes no difference to me, my dear Hilda; and you can have your money just exactly when you like. How much do you require?’ ‘I will take anything you choose to give me, sir.’ ‘Tut, tut, tut!’ he said, as though annoyed by my want of confidence; ‘it must be as _you_ choose, my dear—it must be as you choose. What was the annual sum fixed on by Mr. Warrington for your private expenses? One hundred pounds?’ ‘Oh no, sir. Fifty!’ ‘That’s not enough,’ replied my guardian, decidedly. ‘No young lady can dress according to her station for fifty pounds a year. We must make it eighty.’ ‘You are too kind to me, Mr. Lovett; but I should be very sorry to think my living here put you to any expense.’ ‘Nonsense, my dear Hilda! I do not pretend to be a rich man; but I must become poorer than I am before I consent to take one _sou_ more than is absolutely necessary from the child of my dear old chum, Dick Marsh. So we will call the pin-money eighty pounds, my dear; and please to say no more about it. But I must not stay another minute, or I shall miss the diligence. Good-bye, and God bless you. How like you are to your father, to be sure! As you stand there, I could almost fancy it was dear old Dick come back and smiling at me.’ ‘How soon shall you be home again, Mr. Lovett?’ ‘Not till to-morrow morning, my child; but Tessie knows all about it. Good-bye, good-bye!’ And, waving his stick at me, the benevolent old gentleman descended the steps and made his way down the road as quickly as he could.