He gave a short, gentle laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, dad,” she reproached him, not unkindly.  “Anyhow, I’m glad some one’s come at last.  I was beginning to think that my home had forgotten all about me.  Even when I sent up for some clothes no message came back.”

The life-long experience of Mr. Prohack had been that important and unusual interviews rarely corresponded with the anticipation of them, and the present instance most sharply confirmed his experience.  He had expected to be forgiving an apologetic daughter, but the reality was that he found himself in the dock.  He hesitated for words, and Sissie went on: 

“Here have I been working myself to death reorganising this place after Viola went—­and I can tell you it needed reorganising!  Haven’t had a minute in the mornings, and of course there are the lessons afternoon and evening.  And no one’s been down to see how I was getting on, or even written.  I do think it’s a bit steep.  Mother might have known that if I had had any spare time I should have run up.”

“I’ve been rather queer,” he excused himself and the family.  “And your mother’s been looking after me, and of course you know Charlie’s still in Glasgow.”

“I don’t know anything,” she corrected him.  “But you needn’t tell me that if you’ve been unwell mother’s been looking after you.  Does she ever do anything else?  Are you better?  What was it?  You look all right.”

“Oh!  General derangement.  I haven’t been to the office since you decamped.”  He did not feel equal to telling her that he would not be returning to the office for months.  She had said that he looked all right, and her quite honest if hasty verdict on his appearance gave him a sense of guilt, and also renewed suspicions of Dr. Veiga.

“Not been to the office!” The statement justly amazed the girl, almost shocked her.  But she went on in a fresh, satirical accent recalling Mr. Prohack’s own:  “You must have been upset!  But of course you’re highly nervous, dad, and I expect the excitement of the news of your fortune was too much for you.  I know exactly how you get when anything unusual happens.”

She had heard of the inheritance!

“I was going to tell you about that little affair,” he said awkwardly.  “So you knew!  Who told you?”

“Nobody in my family at any rate,” she answered.  “I heard of it from an outsider, and of course from sheer pride I had to pretend that I knew all about it.  And what’s more, father, you knew when you gave me that fifty pounds, only you wouldn’t let on.  Don’t deny it....  Naturally I’m glad about it, very glad.  And yet I’m not.  I really rather regret it for you and mother.  You’ll never be as happy again.  Riches will spoil my poor darling mother.”