d all that, but he would
only show it by teasing."
It was Frances's turn to sigh, for in spite of her determination to see
everything and everybody in the best possible light, she knew that Elsa
was only speaking the truth about Geoffrey.
Half an hour later the two sisters were sitting at dinner with their
mother. She was anxious and tired, as they knew, but she did her utmost
to seem cheerful.
"I have seen and heard nothing of Geoff," she said suddenly. "Has he
many lessons to do to-night? He's all right, I suppose?"
"Oh yes," said Frances. "Vic's with him, looking out his words. He seems
in very good spirits. I told him you were busy writing for the mail, and
persuaded him to finish his lessons first. He'll be coming up to the
drawing-room later."
"I think mamma had better go to bed almost at once," said Elsa,
abruptly. "You've finished those letters, dear, haven't you?"
"Yes--all that I can write as yet. But I must go to see Mr. Norris first
thing to-morrow morning. I have said to your uncle that I cannot send
him particulars till next mail."
"Mamma, darling," said Frances, "do you really think it's going to be
very bad?"
Mrs. Tudor smiled rather sadly.
"I'm afraid so," she said; "but the suspense is the worst. Once we
really _know_, we can meet it. You three girls are all so good, and
Geoff, poor fellow--he _means_ to be good too."
"Yes," said Frances, eagerly, "I'm sure he does."
"But 'meaning' alone isn't much use," said Elsa. "Mamma," she went on
with sudden energy, "if this does come--if we really do lose all our
money, perhaps it will be the best thing for Geoff in the end."
Mrs. Tudor seemed to wince a little.
"You needn't make the very worst of it just yet, any way," said Frances,
reproachfully.
"And it would in one sense be the hardest on Geoff," said the mother,
"for his education would have to be stopped, just when he's getting on
so well, too."
"But----" began Elsa, but she said no more. It was no use just then
expressing what was in her mind--that getting on well at school, winning
the good opinion of his masters, the good fellowship of his companions,
did not comprise the whole nor even the most important part of the duty
of a boy who was also a son and a brother--a son, too, of a widowed
mother, and a brother of fatherless sisters. "I would almost rather,"
she said to herself, "that he got on less well at school if he were more
of a comfort at home. It would be more m
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