"Nothing. He'll never see them."

"If he saw daddy's--"

"Oh, but he didn't. That was me."

Barbara was thoughtful. "I daresay," she said, "you won't keep me long.
Supposing I can't do the work?"

"The _work_?" Fanny's eyes were interrogative and a little surprised, as
though they were saying, "Who said work? What work?"

"Well, Mr. Waddington's work. I've got to help him with his book,
haven't I?"

"Oh, his book, yes. _When_ he's writing it. He isn't always. Does he
look," said Fanny, "like a man who'd always be writing a book?"

"No. I can't say he does, exactly." (What _did_ he look like?)

"Well, then, it'll be all right. I mean _we_ shall be."

"I only wondered whether I could really do what he wants."

"If Ralph could," said Fanny, "you can."

"Who's Ralph?"

"Ralph is my cousin. He _was_ Horatio's secretary."