CHAPTER XVI.

FROM MARCH TO JUNE.

When Bessie knew that the money was really theirs, when she had it in her hand and counted the bank-notes, her happiness knew no bounds, and she felt richer than Blanche Trevellian ever had with fifty times that sum.  To her that hundred pounds represented so much actual good and comfort for her father, for whom she would use nearly all of it.  But first she must pay Jack Trevellian, and she said to her father: 

“May I have ten pounds of this to do with as I like?  I promise to make good use of it.”

“Yes, child,” he answered, “it is all yours to do with as you please.”

So she sent ten pounds to Jack, and wrote: 

“I return the money you were so good as to loan mother.  Ten pounds she said it was.  It was very kind in you to let her have it, and I know you meant it well.  You could not mean otherwise; but please, Mr. Trevellian, for my sake don’t do it again.

    “Yours truly,

    “BESSIE McPHERSON.”

This done, Bessie paid the butcher and the baker and the grocer, and a part of what they were owing Anthony and Dorothy, and bought herself a pair of shoes, and then religiously put by what was left to buy the medicines and dainties, the beef tea and wine and jellies and fruit, which were to nurse her father back to health physically and mentally.  But it would take more than fruit or jelly to repair a constitution never strong and now greatly weakened by disease.  Every day Archie grew weaker, while Bessie watched over and tended him with anguish in her heart and a terrible shrinking from the future when he would be gone forever.  From Neil she heard often, but his letters did not do her much good they were so full of regret for the poverty which was keeping her from him and would keep her indefinitely for aught he knew.  From her mother she seldom heard.  That frivolous butterfly was too busy and gay to give much time or thought to her dying husband and overburdened child.  She was still at Nice and still devoted to her American friends, the Rossiter-Brownes, as they called themselves, to the great amusement of their neighbors, who had known them when they were plain Mr. and Mrs. Isaac R. Brown, of Massachusetts, or, as they were familiarly called, Miss Brown and Ike.  But they were rich people now; a turn in the wheel had made Ike a millionaire and transformed him into Mr. Rossiter-Browne, and with his wife and his two children, Augusta and Allen, he was doing Europe on a grand scale, and Mrs. Rossiter-Browne, an ambitious but well-meaning woman, had taken a violent fancy to Daisy, and had even invited her to go home with her in June, offering to defray all her expenses out and back if she would do so.