"Beautiful! My dear child, how can you apply that dignified and really expressive adjective to anything so dreadful? Have you ever seen any human being who in the least resembled the extremely indelicate creatures depicted in this paper?" "No, sir, but I’d like to. They’ve all got such curly hair." "Most of them," Mr. Wycherly said severely, "appear to wear very little else. We must show you some really beautiful pictures, Jane-Anne, and then perhaps you will realise the worthlessness of these." She felt that it was an unpropitious moment for the introduction of "Magnolia Bloom toilet powder." Mr. Wycherly’s attitude was strangely unsympathetic. Nevertheless she was full of tenacity of purpose, so she said, in what she was assured Bruey would have considered a "winning" voice: "Please, sir, is there anything I could do to earn one-and-six?" Mr. Wycherly laughed. "I think you have earned it many times over by all the things you do for me. Would you like it now?" He took a handful of silver from his pocket and pushed the coins toward her, saying: "I wish they were new ones. I always think all the new silver ought to be kept for boys and girls—but if you’re in a hurry—perhaps you’d rather have it now." "Thank you very much, sir," said Jane-Anne; but her voice was not joyful, as one might have expected. She felt rather uncomfortable. He had never questioned her as to why she wanted it. "Are you sure it’s enough?" he asked kindly. "Quite sure, sir, and I’m very much obliged." Mr. Wycherly looked at her curiously. Why was her voice so listless and flat? She dropped the coins into the pocket of her dress and stood before him, rubbing one slender foot over the other, her eyes downcast, quite unlike the eager, chattering child he loved. "Good-night, sir," said Jane-Anne. When she reached her bedroom she felt very miserable indeed. She possessed the coveted eighteenpence and was thoroughly ashamed of having it. It had been obtained too easily and she felt that she was deceiving Mr. Wycherly. Without knowing why, she was certain he would not wholly approve of the purchase of the "Magnolia Bloom powder," and he had never asked her why she wanted the eighteen-pence. He trusted her. Jane-Anne felt mean. Against her will, the verses she loved returned to her mind: "The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent." Hitherto she had happily considered those lines quite applicable to her general conduct. Even the disastrous morning at Mrs. Cox’s had not left behind it the uncomfortable sensations she was now enduring. She had not been six years in Mrs. Dew’s charge without acquiring something of that good woman’s sturdy independence. She had asked for money. She had taken it; and for a purpose she was certain the donor would disapprove. He would call it "meretricious," that curious word Master Montagu had used. She had heard Mr. Wycherly use it too.