"A tambourine will be quite enough for me; I told papa so, I shan't
think of music; I shall think of poor Mr. Kane. Mr. Carlyle I know
you can be kind if you like; I know you would rather be kind than
otherwise--it is to be read in your face. Try and do what you can for
him."

"Yes, I will," he warmly answered.

Mr. Carlyle sold no end of tickets the following day, or rather caused
them to be sold. He praised up the concert far and wide, and proclaimed
that Lord Mount Severn and his daughter would not think of missing it.
Mr. Kane's house was besieged for tickets, faster than he could write
his signature in their corner; and when Mr. Carlyle went home to
luncheon at midday, which he did not often do, he laid down two at Miss
Corny's elbow.

"What's this? Concert tickets! Archibald, you have never gone and bought
these!"

What would she have said had she known that the two were not the extent
of his investment?

"Ten shillings to throw away upon two paltry bits of cardboard!" chafed
Miss Carlyle. "You always were a noodle in money matters, Archibald, and
always will be. I wish I had the keeping of your purse!"

"What I have given will not hurt me, Cornelia, and Kane is badly off.
Think of his troop of children."