a word. A hundred pounds? No more?"

"A hundred and twenty--"

"Where is it?"

"In my bag at the station--in notes. And I've got a little here--"
Alvina opened her purse, and took out some little gold and silver.

"At the station!" exclaimed Madame, smiling grimly. "Then perhaps
you have nothing."

"Oh, I think it's quite safe, don't you--?"

"Yes--maybe--since it is England. And you think a hundred and twenty
pounds is enough?"

"What for?"

"To satisfy Ciccio."

"I wasn't thinking of him," cried Alvina.

"No?" said Madame ironically. "I can propose it to him. Wait one
moment." She went to the door and called Ciccio.

He entered, looking not very good-tempered.

"Be so good, my dear," said Madame to him, "to go to the station and
fetch Miss Houghton's little bag. You have got the ticket, have
you?" Alvina handed the luggage ticket to Madame. "Midland Railway,"
said Madame. "And, Ciccio, you are listening--? Mind! There is a
hundred and twenty pounds of Miss Houghton's money in the bag. You
hear? Mind it is not lost."

"It's all I have," said Alvina.

"For the time, for the time--till the will is proved, it is all the
cash she has. So mind doubly. You hear?"

"All right," said Ciccio.

"Tell him what sort of a bag, Miss Houghton," said Madame.

Alvina told him. He ducked and went. Madame listened for his final
departure. Then she nodded sagely at Alvina.

"Take off your hat and coat, my dear. Soon we will have tea--when
Cic' returns. Let him think, let him think what he likes. So much
money is certain, perhaps there will be more. Let him think. It will
make all the difference that there is so much cash--yes, so much--"

"But would it _really_ make a difference to him?" cried Alvina.

"Oh my dear!" exclaimed Madame. "Why should it not? We are on earth,
where we must eat. We are not in Paradise. If it were a thousand
pounds, then he would want very badly to marry you. But a hundred
and twenty is better than a blow to the eye, eh? Why sure!"

"It's dreadful, though--!" said Alvina.

"Oh la-la! Dreadful! If it was Max, who is sentimental, then no, the
money is nothing. But all the others--why, you see, they are men,
and they know which side to butter their bread. Men are like cats,
my dear, they don't like their bread without butter. Why should
they? Nor do I, nor do I."

"Can I help with the darning?" said Alvina.

"Hein? I shall give you Ciccio's socks, yes? He pushes holes in the
toes--yo