"Mama," she said, going back into the sitting-room where her mother awaited her, "behold I am not a child any longer. I am grown up." CHAPTER XXXI Bessie's Hour For the best part of the week, Mrs. Day, attending in the vague and preoccupied manner which had been hers since Franky's death to her few customers, marvelled greatly and with supreme uneasiness of mind about Mr. Boult. He took no notice of her letter, he did not come to the house. "He is too much offended," she said to herself, wondering what form the vengeance she anticipated would take. At length, unable to keep silence any longer on the subject, she questioned Bessie. "I hope Mr. Boult was not very much annoyed at my leaving him on Thursday, Bessie?" "He didn't say he was," said Bessie, pertly. "But was he? You could judge from his manner, surely?" "If you ask me, then, I don't think he cared a ha'penny." "I wrote to him, you know, Bessie." "That finished it, I suppose?" "Well, I must say I expected an answer." "Mr. Boult has been in London lately. Perhaps it slipped his memory." "London? That explains it. But how do you know, my dear?" "I happen to know," Bessie said, and escaped from further questioning. On the morning of the day when Deleah and her mother were to look over the house which Deleah had chosen for the scene of their new start in life, the girl went down into the shop to help her mother take stock of her stores of teas and sugars and soaps. The enterprising Coman, having done his best to ruin the widow's trade, had intimated his willingness to take the business over as it stood, and at once; leaving the family at liberty to continue in the house until Christmas. Having her younger daughter with her behind the counter, made her morning in the shop a different thing to Mrs. Day. She lost the weary air of hopelessness she had worn since Franky's death, talked cheerfully to her customers, was brisk and alert over the business she and Deleah had to do. "It is surprising that Mr. Boult, who has always insisted on having a finger in everything, should leave all this to us," she once said. "Our letter must have mortally offended him, Deleah." "Never mind, mama; we will manage without him," Deleah promised. She felt such happy confidence in herself. "We will work," she said. "There never were two people who worked as you and I will work." "And I am sure, in her way, Bessie will help," Mrs. Day loyally added; but Deleah was not quick to admit Bessie to her scheme. "Twenty-five lemons," said Mrs. Day, having counted the stock of that commodity. "Two of them going bad. Say twenty-three, dear." "Twenty-three lemons," repeated Deleah, entering that number in the stocktaking book. "Three whole, and one half tin of ginger-nuts, at eight-pence the pound."