"Tell her to send me something," was the prompt reply, which made Miss Betsey's shoulders jerk a little.
"Send you what?" she asked, rather sharply, and Bessie, who had commenced the rubbing process again and was looking at her hands, replied: "I want a turquois ring--five stones, with a pearl in the center; real, too. I don't like shams, neither does papa; but mamma don't care, if she gets the effect. If you'll never tell as long as you live and breathe, those solitaires in mamma's ears are nothing but paste, and were bought in the Palais Royal," and Bessie pursed up her lips so disdainfully that Miss McPherson burst into a laugh, and stooping down, kissed the little face as she said: "That's right, child; never tolerate a sham; better the naked truth always."
In the distance Daisy, who had passed them ten minutes or so ago, was seen returning with young Hardy and rising to her feet, Miss Betsey said: "I must go now, child; good-by. Try and be good and truthful and real, and stick to your father, and sometime, maybe, you'll see me again."
Then she walked swiftly away, and Bessie saw her no more, but for days she talked of the queer old woman on the terrace, who had called her Betsey and who had bade her be good and truthful and real and stick to her father.
Numerous were the questions put to her by her father and mother, relative to the stranger whose identity with the American aunt they scarcely doubted; and Archie was conscious of a bitter pang as he reflected that she had been so near to him and yet had not tried to find him. He had heard that she was expected in London, and he knew now how strong had been the hope that he should meet her, and that she would do something for him. He was so tired and so ashamed of the life he led--now here, now there, now on the first floor, now on the fifth floor back, now plenty now penury and absolute want, according to Daisy's luck. For Daisy managed everything and bade him take things easy and trust to her; but he would so much rather have staid quietly at Stoneleigh with but one meal a day and know how that meal was paid for, than to live what to his sense of propriety seemed a not very respectable life. But he had lost his chance. The one who might have made living at Stoneleigh possible had ignored him. She had been where he was, and had not sought him, and his face was very gloomy that evening as he sat in front of the hotel with Bessie in his lap, while Daisy walked on the terrace with Lord Hardy and told him of the old woman on the sands who must have been the American aunt.