“But that would not do for me,” said Lydia, with a toss of her head; and, indeed, to see her here with her airy figure, and her close-fitting habit, and the beautiful bay arching his fine neck in the background, and to suggest any connection with the butter money was a thing which only an elder sister without sentiment or sense of appropriateness could have done. The Duke’s daughter did not look more unlike any such homely particulars; indeed, the Duke’s daughter was not fit, as Joan said, proudly, to herself, to “hold the candle” to little Liddy Joscelyn. “I don’t know what’s coming of it,” Mrs. Selby said to her husband; “but, Phil, you and me will stand by that child, and see her out of it--will you, goodman?” “That I will, my dear,” Philip Selby said; “but Joscelyn has been doing not badly, and I dare say he can afford to let the little one have her fling. He has none to think of now but Liddy--and there’s Uncle Henry’s money.” This allusion always made Joan ready to cry, though she was not given to tears. “I would rather burn off my fingers than touch Uncle Henry’s money,” she said. “It will never be me that will put my hand to it, and give my consent that yon poor lad is not coming home----” “We must be reasonable, my dear,” Philip Selby said, mildly, “and the others will not be so patient. There is one thing you shall do if you like, Joan, and that is give your share to Liddy. It would never be any pleasure to you.” Joan looked at her husband with a startled air. She was more matter of fact than he was, and the idea of giving over actual money to which she had a right, to anyone, was a thing which gave her somewhat of a shock. In their ordinary affairs she had to keep rather a tight hand upon her Phil, who was too easy about his money generally; but this was a complicated case, and puzzled her much. “Give Liddy my share? You say true it would be little, little pleasure to me; but money is money, and there are some to come after us. It’s fine to be generous, but we must think upon justice. What’s Liddy’s is Liddy’s, and what’s mine is mine.” It was from no want of kindness that Joan spoke: but she could not help it. It was as natural to close her hand over money, even when she hated it, as it was for others to throw it away. “You will think better of it,” her husband said. “Oh! it’s very likely I will think better of it. A woman cannot live with a prodigal like you without getting into ill ways. But I was always brought up to stick to my money; and I’ve you to look after as well. If you had not me to watch over you, you would give away the coat off your back.” “For all that I’ve always had plenty,” said Selby, “and now more than plenty--with a good wife to take care of it and me.”