I also feel as if it were at least a couple of years since it all
happened. Yet it is only three days since Million and I went down to
Chancery Lane together to interview the old lawyer person on the subject
of her new riches. I shall never forget that interview. I shall never be
able to forget the radiant little face of Million at the end of it all,
when the kind old gentleman offered to advance her some of her own money
"down on the nail," and did advance her five pounds in cash--five
golden, gleaming, solid sovereigns!

"My godfathers!" breathed Million, as she tucked the coins into the palm
of her brown-thread glove.

She'd never had so much money at once before in the whole course of her
twenty-three years of life. (I've _never_ had it, of course!) And the
tangible presence of those heavy coins in her hand seemed to bring it
home to Million that she was rich, more than all the explanations of her
old lawyer about investments and capital.

I saw him look, half-amusedly, half-anxiously, at the little heiress's
flushed face and the gesture with which she clenched that fist full of
gold. And it was then that he began to urge upon us that "Miss Million"
must find some responsible older person or persons, some ladies with
whom she might live while she made her plans respecting the
rearrangement of her existence.

To cut a long story short, it was he, the old lawyer, who suggested and
arranged for "Miss Million's" next step. It appears that he has sisters
"of a reasonable age" (I suppose that means about a hundred and
thirty-eight) who are on the committee of a hostelry for gentlewomen of
independent means, somewhere in Kensington.

Sure to be a "pussery" of some sort! "Gentlewomen" living together
generally relapse into spitefulness and feuds, and "means" can often be
pronounced "mean"!

Still, as Million's old lawyer said, the place would provide a haven
_pro tem_.

Our millionairess went off there this morning. She wouldn't take a taxi.

"What's the use o' wasting all that fare from here to Kensington, good
gracious?" said Million. "There's no hurry about me getting there long
before lunch, after all, Miss Beatrice. And as for me things, they can
come by Carter Paterson a bit later. I'll put the card up now, if Miss
Lovelace don't mind. There's only that tin trunk that I've had ever
since the Orphanage, and me straw basket with the strap round----"

Such luggage for an heiress! I couldn't help smiling at it