'Go away and spend your ten pounds. What did I give it you for but to
keep you quiet?'

Miss Rose's ready-made resources and Molly's taste combined, did not
arrive at a very great success. She bought a lilac print, because it
would wash, and would be cool and pleasant for the mornings; and this
Betty could make at home before Saturday. And for high-days and
holidays--by which was understood afternoons and Sundays--Miss Rose
persuaded her to order a gay-coloured, flimsy plaid silk, which she
assured her was quite the latest fashion in London, and which Molly
thought would please her father's Scotch blood. But when he saw the
scrap which she had brought home as a pattern, he cried out that the
plaid belonged to no clan in existence, and that Molly ought to have
known this by instinct. It was too late to change it, however, for Miss
Rose had promised to cut the dress out as soon as Molly had left her
shop.

Mr. Gibson had hung about the town all the morning instead of going
away on his usual distant rides. He passed his daughter once or twice
in the street, but he did not cross over the way when he was on the
opposite side--only gave her a look or a nod, and went on his way,
scolding himself for his weakness in feeling so much pain at the
thought of her absence for a fortnight or so.

'And, after all,' thought he, 'I am only where I was when she comes
back; at least, if that foolish fellow goes on with his imaginary
fancy. She'll have to come back some time, and if he chooses to imagine
himself constant, there's still the devil to pay.' Presently he began
to hum the air out of the 'Beggar's Opera'--