s, you talk of the
Bensons. I did not think you had so much discrimination, my little
sister."

Jemima looked up in surprise; and then reddened angrily.

"I never meant to say a word against Mr or Miss Benson, and that you
know quite well, Dick."

"Never mind! I won't tell tales. They are stupid old fogeys, but they
are better than nobody, especially as that handsome governess of the
girls always comes with them to be looked at."

There was a little pause; Richard broke it by saying:

"Do you know, Mimie, I've a notion, if she plays her cards well, she
may hook Farquhar!"

"Who?" asked Jemima, shortly, though she knew quite well.

"Mrs Denbigh, to be sure. We were talking of her, you know. Farquhar
asked me to dine with him at his hotel as he passed through town,
and--I'd my own reasons for going and trying to creep up his
sleeve--I wanted him to tip me, as he used to do."

"For shame! Dick," burst in Jemima.

"Well! well! not tip me exactly, but lend me some money. The governor
keeps me so deucedly short."

"Why! it was only yesterday, when my father was speaking about your
expenses, and your allowance, I heard you say that you'd more than
you knew how to spend."

"Don't you see that was the perfection of art? If my father had
thought me extravagant, he would have kept me in with a tight rein;
as it is, I'm in great hopes of a handsome addition, and I can tell
you it's needed. If my father had given me what I ought to have had
at first, I should not have been driven to the speculations and
messes I've got into."

"What speculations? What messes?" asked Jemima, with anxious
eagerness.

"Oh! messes was not the right word. Speculations hardly was; for
they are sure to turn out well, and then I shall surprise my father
with my riches." He saw that he had gone a little too far in his
confidence, and was trying to draw in.

"But, what do you mean? Do explain it to me."

"Never you trouble your head about my business, my dear. Women can't
understand the share-market, and such things. Don't think I've
forgotten the awful blunders you made when you tried to read the
state of the money-market aloud to my father, that night when he
had lost his spectacles. What were we talking of? Oh! of Farquhar
and pretty Mrs Denbigh. Yes! I soon found out that was the subject
my gentleman liked me to dwell on. He did not talk about her much
himself, but his eyes sparkled when I told him what enthusiastic
letters Polly and