Tea with thick bread-and-butter, dry toast, water-cress, little dishes of
sliced ham, and pastry-tarts made in Emily's best fashion; and Bessie and
Franky were already seated at the table.
By Deleah's plate a letter was lying. A letter at which she looked
dubiously, shrinking a little from opening it; for it was addressed, in a
fashion which had become embarrassingly familiar to her, in carefully
printed characters.
"It's money, this time, we think," Franky cried, jumping in his chair.
"Make haste, Deda."
"We're simply dying to know what he's sent you. How slow you are!" Bessie
scolded.
Reluctantly Deleah broke the envelope and drew forth two tickets for the
evening's concert.
"The ten-shilling places!" Bessie cried. "We'll go, Deleah. We'll go!"
Deleah looked with a little distrust at the tickets lying beside her
plate. "It's all very well, but I should so much prefer presents without
all this mystery about them. Months ago I would have thanked Mr. Boult if
you and mama would have allowed me. I am sure it would have been better. I
am sure we ought to thank him."
"That doesn't matter now. We've got to think about the concert. I'm going
to it, and I can't go without you."
"I don't know if we ought to go, Bessie--"
"Why not, pray?"
Deleah was silent.
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