"That is right," exclaimed Fluff, clapping her hands. "Frances's fortune--then, of course, then you will spend it in saving her."
"I would spend every penny to save her, if I only knew how."
"How stupid you are," said Fluff. "Oh, if only I were a man!"
"What would I not do? You have fifteen thousand pounds, and Frances is in all this trouble because of six thousand pounds. Shall I tell you, must I tell you what you ought to do?"
"Oh, it is so easy. You must get the name of the old horror in London to whom the squire owes six thousand pounds, and you must give him six out of your fifteen, and so pay off the squire's debt. You must do this and--and--"
"Yes, Fluff; I really do think you are the cleverest little girl I ever came across."
"The best part is to come now," said Fluff. "Then you go to the squire; tell him that you will sell the Firs over his head, unless he allows you to marry Frances. Oh, it is so easy, so, so delightful!"
"Give me your hand, Fluff. Yes, I see light--yes. God bless you, Fluff!"
"There is no doubt she has accepted him," reported Mary Mills to her fellows. "They have both appeared again around the yew hedge, and he has taken her hand, and he is smiling. Oh, he is lovely when he smiles!"
"I wish I was grown up," sighed Marion, from behind. "I'd give anything in all the world to have a lover."
"It will be interesting to watch Fluff at supper to-night," exclaimed Katie Philips. "Of course she'll look intensely happy. I wonder if she'll wear an engagement-ring."
The supper hour came. Fluff took her seat among the smaller girls; her face was radiant enough to satisfy the most exacting, but her small dimpled fingers were bare.
"Why do you all stare at my hands so?" she exclaimed once.
"It's on account of the ring," whispered little Sibyl. "Hasn't he given you the ring yet?"
"Oh, I wasn't to say. His name is Mr. Lover."
Mrs. Carnegie could scarcely be considered the most cheerful companion in the world. There was a general sense of rejoicing when Frances took up her abode at Arden, but the victim who was to spend the greater part of her life in Mrs. Carnegie's heated chambers could scarcely be expected to participate in it. This good lady having turned her thoughts inward for so long, could only see the world from this extremely narrow standpoint. She was hypochondriacal, she was fretful, and although Frances managed her, and, in consequence, the rest of the household experienced a good deal of ease, Frances herself, whose heart just now was not of the lightest, could not help suffering. Her cheeks grew paler, her figure slighter and thinner. She could only cry at night, but then she certainly cried a good deal.