"I!" said Reid, being certain by Florence's manner that she must have over a thousand a year. "I should hate myself if I did." "I am so glad to hear it," said Florence. "I respect you very much." "I am glad--" he said, in a gentle tone. "Do let us walk up and down by the laurel hedge; we needn't go in for the next dance, need we?" "I promised it to Mr Cunliffe." "Oh--cut his dance. Never mind him; stay with me. Surely I am more interesting to you than Cunliffe." "Yes, you are; far more interesting: in fact, I don't care about him at all. Nevertheless, I don't like to cut men's dances." "You will have plenty of opportunity to make up for all omissions when you go to London. I suppose you will be going there soon." "Perhaps so," said Florence; who, however, by no means wished to revert to her future. "When you go," pursued Lieutenant Reid, "you will see plenty of me, for I am quartered at Knightsbridge for the present. I shall come to see you whenever I can." "That will be very kind of you." "Not at all. It is not a kindness to give oneself a pleasure--at least, I don't think so." Florence made no reply. After a time she said, suddenly-- "I _am_ glad you made that remark. I shall never forget it--never." Again he had to ask her what it was. "About your feeling just the same to me if I were as poor as a church mouse." "So I should," he answered, with enthusiasm. "How could riches enhance your value? A man likes a girl for herself. He is indifferent, quite indifferent as to whether she has money or not." "That is the sort of man I admire," said Florence. "Well, always remember that I have said it of you. Don't forget, will you?" "I shall never forget," she replied; and then they went back to the house where Susie, being tired out with strumming on the old piano, had begged for round games. There was a great deal of fun; and altogether Christmas night passed with _eclat_. The girls went back in high spirits, and as they were going to bed that evening, Florence said to Brenda-- "How did you enjoy yourself?" "Fairly well," she replied; "but I saw that you looked happy." "I was," said Florence. "I have found one true man in the world." "Michael Reid?" remarked Brenda. "You talked and danced with him a good deal." "Yes; he said one queer thing--in fact, he said it three times. He must be a very good fellow, better even than--than we imagined." "What did he say?" asked Brenda, as she unfastened her sister's white frock, and slightly yawned, for she was tired and wanted to go to bed. "He said that he would like a girl quite as well if she were as poor as a church mouse. He said it so earnestly, too. He knows nothing about us, but you know that sort of remark would not have been believed by the girls at school; would it, Brenda?" "No; I expect not. Well, you are as poor as a church mouse, Flo, but you didn't tell him so?"