"And are you satisfied with the way your daughters are clothed, papa?" said Fanchon, kicking out a long leg as she spoke and showing an untidily shod and very large foot. "Oh, my dear--my dear! I know nothing about ladies' dress. I can't afford silk--I wish I could; I should love to see you in silk; but in my present state, and with my poor stipend, it has to be cotton. I told dear Brenda so, and she agreed with me. Cotton in summer, and a sort of thick stuff--I think they call it linsey-woolsey, but I am not sure--for the cold days. I cannot do better, Fanchon--there is no use in your scolding me." "I am not scolding you, papa. You gave Brenda three pounds for each of us--didn't you--the other day, to get our things for the seaside?" "Yes, of course I did: that was the very least she said she could possibly have. I gave it to her with her own quarter's salary, which the dear girl required a fortnight in advance; there was nothing in that. Her quarter's salary was seven pounds ten, and the money for you three--nine pounds. Brenda said it was very little, but it really seemed a great lot to me, and I regret it when I think of my poor parishioners. But there's nothing cheaper than cotton--at least, I have never heard of it; of course, if there were, it would be my duty to clothe you in it." "Did you ever hear of art muslin, papa?" asked Fanchon. "That is cheaper, but I won't disturb you any more." She went up to him and gave him a kiss. Then she left the room. Having obtained her information, Fanchon went deliberately into the filbert walk. There she paced about for some time, her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands locked tightly together in front of her. She was not exactly depressed, but she was troubled. She was old enough to see the advantage of the revelation being arrived at which little Nina had so cleverly accomplished, and she was determined to make it in every way available for her own purposes. But to do this, she must put her sisters off the scent. At dinner time, she ate a very scanty meal. She hardly spoke to them, but, after dinner, she had a long conference with them both. "Now, look here, Nina," she said. "Yes," said Nina. "I want you to make me a promise." "Oh, I do hate promises," said Nina. "I don't," said Josephine, "they're rather interesting; nothing cheerful ever comes in our way, and even to make a promise seems better than nothing." "Well, the promise I want you two to make to me is this: that you won't breathe a word of what I have said to you, either to father or Brenda-- that you will keep it entirely to yourselves and allow _me_ to manage Miss Brenda. I think I can promise that if you do this you will both have rather pretty frocks at the seaside, and that Nina shall have her flounces. Go on finishing the pink muslins, girls, for they'll be a help, and certainly better than nothing, and let me approach Brenda to-morrow morning."