"Anybody is a loss--the stupidest bore that ever was would be a blessing, if he only would come in sometimes." "Mr and Miss Benson have drank tea here twice since you came." "Come, that's capital! Apropos of stupid bores, you talk of the Bensons. I did not think you had so much discrimination, my little sister." Jemima looked up in surprise; and then reddened angrily. "I never meant to say a word against Mr or Miss Benson, and that you know quite well, Dick." "Never mind! I won't tell tales. They are stupid old fogeys, but they are better than nobody, especially as that handsome governess of the girls always comes with them to be looked at." There was a little pause; Richard broke it by saying: "Do you know, Mimie, I've a notion, if she plays her cards well, she may hook Farquhar!" "Who?" asked Jemima, shortly, though she knew quite well. "Mrs Denbigh, to be sure. We were talking of her, you know. Farquhar asked me to dine with him at his hotel as he passed through town, and--I'd my own reasons for going and trying to creep up his sleeve--I wanted him to tip me, as he used to do." "For shame! Dick," burst in Jemima. "Well! well! not tip me exactly, but lend me some money. The governor keeps me so deucedly short." "Why! it was only yesterday, when my father was speaking about your expenses, and your allowance, I heard you say that you'd more than you knew how to spend." "Don't you see that was the perfection of art? If my father had thought me extravagant, he would have kept me in with a tight rein; as it is, I'm in great hopes of a handsome addition, and I can tell you it's needed. If my father had given me what I ought to have had at first, I should not have been driven to the speculations and messes I've got into." "What speculations? What messes?" asked Jemima, with anxious eagerness. "Oh! messes was not the right word. Speculations hardly was; for they are sure to turn out well, and then I shall surprise my father with my riches." He saw that he had gone a little too far in his confidence, and was trying to draw in. "But, what do you mean? Do explain it to me." "Never you trouble your head about my business, my dear. Women can't understand the share-market, and such things. Don't think I've forgotten the awful blunders you made when you tried to read the state of the money-market aloud to my father, that night when he had lost his spectacles. What were we talking of? Oh! of Farquhar and pretty Mrs Denbigh. Yes! I soon found out that was the subject my gentleman liked me to dwell on. He did not talk about her much himself, but his eyes sparkled when I told him what enthusiastic letters Polly and Elizabeth wrote about her. How old d'ye think she is?" "I know!" said Jemima. "At least, I heard her age spoken about, amongst other things, when first she came. She will be five-and-twenty this autumn."