othing.
You may not care to halve it, Mary, perhaps halving would be too much,
but a hundred a year for Teresa. Oh, certainly a hundred. It is so
nice for a young wife to have pin-money of her own... What about a
brass tablet in the church? Quite a nice one for forty pounds, and she
worshipped there in her youth... We must wear black, of course.
Handsome black, only suitable. We could run up to town. Ah, Mary!" her
voice grew arch and playful, "if it were not spring, I would remind you
of my ambition for sables! Nothing looks so well as handsome black and
a sable set. Never mind! Never mind. Christmas is coming! Dear me,
quite a Portunatus cap! Only to wish, and the thing appears... Papa,
you must tell Mary what _you_ want next!"

Then Mary spoke, and if a peal of thunder had crashed through the sunlit
room, the shock could not have been half so great.

"I shall not give," said Mary slowly, "one penny to anybody. I shall
keep every farthing for myself."

Major Mallison gaped, Teresa screwed up her face and stared at her
sister with a vivid kindling of interest. At last! At last! the
dormant spirit had roused itself from its lethargy. Teresa felt a
sympathy, an excitement, which had no element of self. She braced her
knees under the table, and sent forth a telegraphic message of support.

"Go it, Mary!"

"_Mary_," gasped Mrs Mallison deeply, "have you gone mad?"

"Oh, no," said Mary calmly. "I may have been mad before. I've
sometimes fancied I was, but I'm sane now, I'm more than sane... I'm
free! I've been only a slave--a white slave."

Mrs Mallison cast an agonised glance at the sideboard and bookcases, as
if terrified of offending their susceptibilities. She held up
protesting hands.

"Silence! _Mary_... Have you no decency?"

"I'm sorry if the word shocks you. Perhaps it would be better to say a
useful maid. I've been a useful maid at thirty pounds a year, and no
holiday nor nights out. I've done what I've been told to do, from
morning till night, and from night till morning when it has been
necessary, but I've had no life of my own. I'm thirty-two, and I've
never even invited a friend to tea without first having to ask
permission. I have no corner of my own to which I can invite a friend--
not a corner in the world--except a tireless bedroom. Every servant in
the house has had more freedom than I have had. I have not been free
even to think. It was useless, for what I tho