"

"Patience did not tell me; but so Beatrice says. Patience showed it
to me once, and it is a darling. I think I'd have the dressing-case
before the bonnet. But, uncle--"

"Well?"

"You don't suppose I want such things?"

"Not improperly. I am sure you do not."

"Not properly, or improperly; not much, or little. I covet many
things; but nothing of that sort. You know, or should know, that I do
not. Why did you talk of buying a French bonnet for me?"

Dr Thorne did not answer this question, but went on nursing his leg.

"After all," said he, "money is a fine thing."

"Very fine, when it is well come by," she answered; "that is, without
detriment to the heart or soul."

"I should be a happier man if you were provided for as is Miss Oriel.
Suppose, now, I could give you up to a rich man who would be able to
insure you against all wants?"

"Insure me against all wants! Oh, that would be a man. That would be
selling me, wouldn't it, uncle? Yes, selling me; and the price you
would receive would be freedom from future apprehensions as regards
me. It would be a cowardly sale for you to make; and then, as to
me--me the victim. No, uncle; you must bear the misery of having to
provide for me--bonnets and all. We are in the same boat, and you
shan't turn me overboard."

"But if I were to die, what would you do then?"

"And if I were to die, what would you do? People must be bound
together. They must depend on each other. Of course, misfortunes may
come; but it is cowardly to be afraid of them beforehand. You and I
are bound together, uncle; and though you say these things to tease
me, I know you do not wish to get rid of me."

"Well, well; we shall win through, doubtless; if not in one way, then
in another."

"Win through! Of course we shall; who doubts our winning? but,
uncle--"

"But, Mary."

"Well?"

"You haven't got another cup of tea, have you?"

"Oh, uncle! you have had five."

"No, my dear! not five; only four--only four, I assure you; I have
been very particular to count. I had one while I was--"

"Five uncle; indeed and indeed."

"Well, then, as I hate the prejudice which attaches luck to an odd
number, I'll have a sixth to show that I am not superstitious."

While Mary was preparing the sixth jorum, there came a knock at the
door. Those late summonses were hateful to Mary's ear, for they were
usually the forerunners of a midnight ride through the dark lanes to
some farmer's house. The docto