'If you think you're going to get anything out of an old screw like
Lord, you'll jolly soon find your mistake.'

'Don't you go and make a fool of yourself, Fanny,' said Mrs.
Peachey. 'Why, he can't be more than twenty-one, is he?'

'He's turned twenty-two.'

The others laughed scornfully.

'Can't I have who I like for a masher?' cried Fanny, reddening a
little. 'Who said I was going to marry him? I'm in no particular
hurry to get married. You think everybody's like yourselves.'

'If there was any chance of old Lord turning up his toes,' said
Beatrice thoughtfully. 'I dare say he'll leave a tidy handful behind
him, but then he may live another ten years or more.'

'And there's Nancy,' exclaimed Ada. 'Won't she get half the
plunder?'

'May be plenty, even then,' said Beatrice, her head aside. 'The
piano business isn't a bad line. I shouldn't wonder if he leaves ten
or fifteen thousand.'

'Haven't you got anything out of Horace?' asked Ada of Fanny. 'What
has he told you?'

'He doesn't know much, that's the fact.'