"I shan't tell you 'cos
you're a magistrate. But we weren't really begging, Pat and I. At least
it wasn't for ourselves."
"Oh, of course not!" said Sir Beverley.
She looked at him with her clear eyes, unconscious of irony. "No. We
wanted to buy a pair of gloves for someone for Christmas. And nice
gloves cost such a lot, don't they? And we hadn't got more than
tenpence-halfpenny among us. So I said I'd think of a plan to get more.
And--that was the plan," ended Grade, with her sweetest smile.
"I see," said Sir Beverley, with his eyes still fixed immovably upon her.
"And what made you come here?"
"Oh, we came here just because of Piers," said Grade, without hesitation.
"You see, he's a great friend of ours."
"Is he?" said Sir Beverley. "And so you think you'll get what you can out
of him, eh?"
"Sir!" said Piers sharply.
"Be quiet, Piers!" ordered his grandfather testily. "Who spoke to you?
Well, madam, continue! How much do you consider him good for?"
Piers pulled a coin impetuously from his pocket and slapped it down on
the table in front of Grade. "There you are, Pixie!" he said. "I'm good
for that."
Gracie stared at the coin with widening eyes, not offering to touch it.
"Oh, Piers!" she said, with a long indrawn breath. "It's a whole
sovereign! Oh no!"
He laughed a reckless laugh, while over her head his eyes challenged his
grandfather's.
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