"No; that I wouldn't," said Brenda. "I am not at all content to sit down and wait. I want to do something. As far as I am concerned, I am rather glad of this chance. I never did care for what are so-called `society pleasures.' I see now the reason why I always felt driven to work very hard. You know father was a great writer. I shall write too. I will make money by my books, and we will both live together and be happy. If you find your prince, the man you have made up your mind to marry, why, you shall marry him. But if you don't, I am always there. We will be very careful of our money, and I will write a book; I think I just know how. I am not father's daughter for nothing. The book will be a success, and I shall get an order for another book, and we can live somehow. We shall be twenty thousand times happier than if we were in a house with Mrs Fortescue looking out for husbands for us--for that is what it comes to when all is said and done." "Oh, you darling! I never thought of that," said Florence. "It is perfectly splendid! I never admired you in all my life as I admire you now, Brenda. Of course, I never thought that you would be the one to save us from destruction. I used at times to have a sort of idea within me that perhaps you would have to come and live with me some day when all our money was spent. I can't imagine why I used to think so often about all our money being spent; but I used to, only I imagined it would be after I had got my trousseau and was married to my dear lord, or duke, or marquis--anyhow, some one with a big place and a title; and I used to imagine you living with me and being my dear companion. But this is much, much better than any of those things." "Yes; I think it is better," said Brenda. "I will think about the book to-night, and perhaps the title may come to me; but in the meantime, we are not to tell Mrs Fortescue--not at least till Christmas Day is over; and we've got to take out our white dresses and get them ironed, and see that they look as fresh as possible. Now, we mustn't stay too long in our room: she is dying with curiosity, but she can't possibly guess the truth." "No; she couldn't guess the truth, that would be beyond her power," said Florence. "The truth is horrible, and yet delightful. We are our own mistresses, aren't we, Brenda?" "As far as the eighty pounds go," replied Brenda. "What I was so terrified about," said the younger sister, "was this. I thought we should have to go as governesses or companions, or something of that sort, in big houses and be--be parted." Her lips trembled. "Oh no; we won't be parted," said Brenda; "but all the same, we'll have to go to see Lady Marian Dixie--that is, when she writes to ask us. Now may I brush your hair for you? I want you to look your very prettiest self to-night."