“May I ask you something?” she said, after she had actually--no other word would describe the process--_wheedled_ him up to the drawing-room after luncheon. It was not often Sir Thomas came to luncheon, and Lucy thought it providential. “Ask me--anything in the world!” he said, with the kind smile which seemed, to Lucy to warm and open up all the corners of her heart. It got into the atmosphere like sunshine, and she felt herself open out in it like a flower. She stood before him very gravely, with her hands folded together, her eyes raised to his, the utmost seriousness in her face, not at all unlike a girl at school, very innocent and modest, but much in earnest, asking for some momentary concession. He had almost put his hand paternally upon the little head, of whose looks he was beginning to grow fond, though, perhaps, in too elder-brotherly a way. It was while Sir Tom’s experienced heart was in this soft and yielding state that the little girl, raising her soft eyes, asked very distinctly, “Then would you lend me a hundred pounds, if you please?” Sir Thomas started as if he had been shot. “A hundred pounds!” he cried, with consternation in every tone. Lucy laughed with the happiest case. There was no one with whom she was so much at home. “It is only till to-morrow. I have written to Mr. Chervil to come, but he can not come till to-morrow,” she said. “And you want a hundred pounds to-day?” “If you please,” said Lucy, calmly; “if you will lend it to me. It would be a pleasure to have it to-day.” Sir Tom’s face grew crimson with embarrassment; had he a hundred pounds to lend? he thought it very unlikely; and his wonder was still more profound. This little thing, not much more than a child; what on earth could she want, all at once, with a hundred pounds? He did not know what to say. “My dear Miss Lucy,” he said (for though this title was incorrect, and against the rules of society, and servant-maidish, he had adopted it as less stiff and distant than Miss Trevor). “My dear Miss Lucy; of course I will do whatever you ask me. But let me ask you, from the uncle point of view, you know, is it right that you should want a hundred pounds all in a moment? Yes, you told me you had a great deal of money; but you have also a very small number of years. I don’t ask what you are going to do with it. We have exchanged opinions already, haven’t we? about the pleasure of throwing money away. But do you think it is right, and that your guardian will approve?” “It is quite right,” said Lucy, gravely; “and my guardian can not help but approve, for it is in papa’s will, Sir Thomas. Thank you very much. I am not throwing it away. I am _giving it back_.”