We
must put up at Madam Binat's for old time"s sake. Thirty-two pounds altogether.
Add a hundred for the cost of the last trip--Gad, won't Torp stare to see me!--
a hundred and thirty-two leaves seventy-eight for baksheesh--I shall need it--
and to play with. What are you crying for, Bess? It wasn't your fault, child;
it was mine altogether. Oh, you funny little opossum, mop your eyes and take me
out! I want the pass-book and the check-book. Stop a minute. Four thousand
pounds at four per cent--that's safe interest--means a hundred and sixty pounds
a year; one hundred and twenty pounds a year--also safe--is two eighty, and two
hundred and eighty pounds added to three hundred a year means gilded luxury for
a single woman. Bess, we'll go to the bank."
Richer by two hundred and ten pounds stored in his money-belt, Dick caused
Bessie, now thoroughly bewildered, to hurry from the bank to the P. and O.
offices, where he explained things tersely.
"Port Said, single first; cabin as close to the baggage-hatch as possible. What
ship's going?"
"The Colgong," said the clerk.
"She's a wet little hooker. Is it Tilbury and a tender, or Galleons and the
docks?"
"Galleons. Twelve-forty, Thursday."
"Thanks. Change, please.
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