THIRTY POUNDS A YEAR.
Miss Ellsworthy thought Primrose both tiresome and obtuse, but here
she was mistaken.
Miss Martineau's solemn looks, Mr. Danesfield's emphatic injunctions
to make the most of their visit to Shortlands, and, above all, the
expression of deep distress on Mrs. Ellsworthy's charming face when
she spoke of their poverty, were by no means thrown away on her.
She felt very grave as the three sisters were driven home in the
Ellsworthys' luxurious carriage. She scarcely joined at all in
Jasmine's chatter, nor did she notice Daisy's raptures over a tiny
white pup--Mrs. Ellsworthy's parting gift.
On their arrival at home the Pink greeted this unlooked-for addition
to the family with a furious assault; and Jasmine, Daisy, and Hannah
were all intensely excited over the task of dividing the combatants;
but Primrose felt but small interest, and owned that she had a slight
headache.
Nevertheless, when the younger girls retired to bed she sat up, and,
taking out an account-book, began an impossible task. Even all the
resources of this young and vigorous brain could not make thirty
pounds cover a year's expenses. Again and again Primrose tried. The
rent of the cottage was twelve pounds a year. She pronounced this
extravagant, and wondered if they could possibly get a cheaper
dwelling.
Then there were Hannah's wages. Well, of course, they could do without
Hannah--it would be very painful to part with her, but anything would
be better than the humiliating conclusion that Mrs. Ellsworthy and
Miss Martineau considered them too poor to live. Then, of course, they
could do without meat--what did healthy girls want with meat?
Only--and here Primrose sighed deeply--Daisy was not _very_ strong.
Eggs were cheap enough in Rosebury, and so was butter, and they could
bake their own bread; and as to clothes, they would not want any more
for a long time. Here Primrose again felt herself pulled up short, for
Jasmine's walking-shoes were nearly worn through.
She went to bed at last, feeling very depressed and anxious. Thirty
pounds was really a much smaller sum of money than she had given it
credit for being. Try as she might, it would not stretch itself over
the expenses of even the humblest establishment of three. She was much
comforted, however, by the reflection that there remained a large sum
to their credit in the bank. Primrose found her faith shaken in the
capacities of an income of thirty pounds a year; but a sum total of
two hundred pounds she still believed to be almost inexhaustible. She
resolved to go and consult Mr. Danesfield on the morrow.
Mr. Danesfield was generally to be found in his private room at the
bank by ten o'clock in the morning. Very soon after that hour on the
following day a clerk came to say that one of the young ladies from
Woodbine Cottage wanted to see him. "The eldest young lady, and she
says her business is very pressing," continued the man.
The bank at Rosebury was only a branch office of a large establishment
in the nearest town. It happened that that morning Mr. Danesfield was
particularly busy, and anxious to get away to the large bank at an
early hour. For more reasons than one, therefore he felt annoyed at
Primrose's visit.
"Poor child," he said to himself, "I have certainly nothing very good
to tell her; and I have undoubtedly no time to waste over her this
morning."
Aloud, however, he said to his clerk--
"Ask Miss Mainwaring to step this way--and, Dawson, order my trap to
be at the door in ten minutes."
"I won't keep you very long, Mr. Danesfield," began Primrose, in a
quick and rather nervous manner for her.
Mr. Danesfield was always the soul of politeness, however irritable he
might feel.
"Sit down, my dear young lady," he said; "I am delighted to see you,
and I can give you exactly five minutes."
"I want to ask you two questions," began Primrose. "The questions are
short. They are about money; and you understand all about that."
"Not all, my dear girl--money is far too great a theme to be wholly
comprehended by one single individual."
Primrose tapped her foot impatiently--then, after a brief pause, she
raised her clear brown eyes, and looked full at the banker.
"How much money have we in the bank, Mr. Danesfield?"
"My dear child, not much--very little, scarcely anything. 'Pon my
word, I am sorry for you, but your entire capital does not amount to
quite two hundred pounds."
Primrose received this information calmly.
"Thank you," she said--"I just wanted to know from yourself. Now, I
have one other question to ask you, and then I will go. My sisters and
I have thirty pounds a year to live on. By drawing a little on our
capital, say, taking ten or fifteen pounds a year from it, can we
live, Mr. Danesfield?"
Mr. Danesfield rose from his seat, and coming over to Primrose, laid
his hand on her shoulder--
"Live! my poor, dear child; you and your sisters would starve. No,
Miss Mainwaring, there is nothing for you three girls to do but to
turn to and earn your living. Your friends, I doubt not, will help,
and you must take their help. I shall be delighted to give advice.
Now, my dear child, my trap is at the door, and I must go. Good
morning--good morning."