"
Bessie kneeling on the window-seat, was looking down into the street:
"It's Reggie, of course," she said. Then she turned round to her sister.
"Deleah," she said, "don't be silly; _take_ Reggie. Don't be put off by
that stuck-up, conceited old brother; don't trouble any more about me, and
things I've said. It's a real chance. The best you'll ever get. _Take
it_."
She had to call the last words over the balusters, for Deleah, paying no
heed to her exhortation, was running down the stairs.
Beside Reginald Forcus in his smart dog-cart little Franky Day, to his own
delight and surprise, was sitting. He had come running down the street to
his tea, when Reggie had accosted him with the agreeable attention of a
whip-lash curved round his calves.
"Hullo, youngster!" Reggie had greeted him.
"Quite 'ell, I thank ye," Franky had responded.
"Coming for a spin with me?"
No further invitation had Franky required, but had clambered at once,
great eyes sparkling, little heart beating high, into the vacant seat
beside the driver. The exceeding honour was his to hold the reins, the
groom standing at Black Michael's head, while Reggie got down to speak to
Deleah at the door.
"Deleah," he said, "I've come to tell you I've done all you asked of me.
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