I had intended telling Frances privately of the Duchess of York's announcement, but after my talk with her I concluded to wait and to make the statement in the presence of her father, so I answered:--
"I am not ready to tell you just now, but I'll do so before I return to London."
"If I do, you'll never hear it," I answered.
"In that case, stay. But tell me as soon as you can, for pent-up curiosity is killing to a girl," said Frances, with a doleful little smile.
"Does nothing else trouble just now?" I asked.
She turned to me in surprise, blushed and answered: "Yes. My poor, dear father. Yes--father. Of course there's nothing else. Why do you ask?"
At that point we came to the shop where we were to buy our supper, and I was glad to change the subject. I had learned definitely that there was a man in the case, and my task would be to put him out if I could. The man who first enters a young girl's heart is hard to dislodge, and the worst part of the terrible business is that even she herself may be unable to expel him her whole life through.
When supper was well under way that evening, I took the opportunity to set my great ball rolling, and said:--
"Uncle Richard, I have come from London for the purpose of offering a suggestion which may eventually be of advantage to all of you."
Sarah put down her knife and fork to listen; Frances held hers in suspense, and Sir Richard looked up quickly, asking:--
"What is it, nephew? We all thank you in advance."
A cold bath is better taken quickly, so I plunged in.
"The Duchess of York has announced her intention to choose four maids of honor by personal inspection. Aside from the fact that they must be of good family, they will be taken solely on account of their beauty, the most beautiful to win."
Frances dropped her knife and fork and sprang to her feet, exclaiming:--
"I'm going to see the duchess! Thank you, cousin Ned! I'll be a maid of honor!"
"Of course--beauty!" observed Sarah, resuming her supper with a dry laugh.
"Your sister can win on the terms offered, if anyone can," said I, turning sharply on Sarah.
"I am sure of it," returned Sarah. "I laughed only because _she_ is so sure."
Frances then turned to her sister, not reproachfully but earnestly: "Sure?" she exclaimed. "Of course I am sure. I know myself. You have a far better mind than mine, but I have--well, I know what I have. I don't believe I am vain, but I know, sister, that you and I must rebuild the fortunes of our house, or worse will come to us than we have ever known. You are sure to do your part because you have intellect--brains. _You_ know you have. Is it any less a matter of vanity for you to know yourself than it is for me to know myself? I know what I have, and I intend to use it."