Betty began to ask questions. How much tea, sugar, soap, candles, bread, butter, bacon, could Mrs. Welden use in a week? It was not very easy to find out the exact quantities, as Mrs. Welden's estimates of such things had been based, during her entire existence, upon calculation as to how little, not how much she could use. When Betty suggested a pound of tea, a half pound--the old woman smiled at the innocent ignorance the suggestion of such reckless profusion implied. “Oh, no! Bless you, miss, no! I couldn't never do away with it. A quarter, miss--that'd be plenty--a quarter.” Mrs. Welden's idea of “the best,” was that at two shillings a pound. Quarter of a pound would cost sixpence (twelve cents, thought Betty). A pound of sugar would be twopence, Mrs. Welden would use half a pound (the riotous extravagance of two cents). Half a pound of butter, “Good tub butter, miss,” would be ten pence three farthings a pound. Soap, candles, bacon, bread, coal, wood, in the quantities required by Mrs. Welden, might, with the addition of rent, amount to the dizzying height of eight or ten shillings. “With careful extravagance,” Betty mentally summed up, “I might spend almost two dollars a week in surrounding her with a riot of luxury.” She made a list of the things, and added some extras as an idea of her own. Life had not afforded her this kind of thing before, she realised. She felt for the first time the joy of reckless extravagance, and thrilled with the excitement of it. “You need not think of Brexley Union any more,” she said, when she, having risen to go, stood at the cottage door with old Mrs. Welden. “The things I have written down here shall be sent to you every Saturday night. I will pay your rent.” “Miss--miss!” Mrs. Welden looked affrighted. “It's too much, miss. An' coals eighteen pence a hundred!” “Never mind,” said her ladyship's sister, and the old woman, looking up into her eyes, found there the colour Mount Dunstan had thought of as being that of bluebells under water. “I think we can manage it, Mrs. Welden. Keep yourself as warm as you like, and sometime I will come and have a cup of tea with you and see if the tea is good.” “Oh! Deary me!” said Mrs. Welden. “I can't think what to say, miss. It lifts everythin'--everythin'. It's not to be believed. It's like bein' left a fortune.” When the wicket gate swung to and the young lady went up the lane, the old woman stood staring after her. And here was a piece of news to run into Charley Jenkins' cottage and tell--and what woman or man in the row would quite believe it? CHAPTER XXV “WE BEGAN TO MARRY THEM, MY GOOD FELLOW!”