When the clatter of knives and forks was over, the doctor turned himself to the hearthrug, and putting one leg over the other, he began to nurse it as he looked with complacency at his third cup of tea, which stood untasted beside him.  The fragments of the solid banquet had been removed, but no sacrilegious hand had been laid on the teapot and the cream-jug.

‘Mary,’ said he, ’suppose you were to find out to-morrow morning that, by some accident, you had become a great heiress, would you be able to suppress your exultation?’

’The first thing I’d do, would be to pronounce a positive edict that you should never go to Silverbridge again; at least without a day’s notice.’

‘Well, and what next? what would you do next?’

’The next thing—­the next thing would be to send to Paris for a French bonnet exactly like the one Patience Oriel had on.  Did you see it?’

’Well I can’t say I did; bonnets are invisible now; besides I never remark anybody’s clothes, except yours.’

’Oh! do look at Miss Oriel’s bonnet the next time you see her.  I cannot understand why it should be so, but I am sure of this—­no English fingers put together such a bonnet as that; and I am nearly sure that no French fingers could do it in England.’

‘But you don’t care so much about bonnets, Mary!’ This the doctor said as an assertion; but there was, nevertheless, somewhat of a question involved in it.

‘Don’t I though?’ said she.  ’I do care very much about bonnets; especially since I saw Patience this morning.  I asked how much it cost—­guess.’

‘Oh!  I don’t know—­a pound?’

‘A pound, uncle!’

‘What! a great deal more?  Ten pounds?’

‘Oh, uncle.’

’What! more than ten pounds?  Then I don’t think even Patience Oriel ought to give it.’

’No, of course she would not; but, uncle, it really cost a hundred francs!’

’Oh! a hundred francs; that’s four pounds, isn’t it?  Well, and how much did your last new bonnet cost?’

’Mine! oh, nothing—­five and ninepence, perhaps; I trimmed it myself.  If I were left a great fortune, I’d send to Paris to-morrow; no, I’d go myself to Paris to buy a bonnet, and I’d take you with me to choose it.’

The doctor sat silent for a while meditating about this, during which he unconsciously absorbed the tea beside him; and Mary again replenished his cup.

‘Come, Mary,’ he said at last, ’I’m in a generous mood; and as I am rather more rich than usual, we’ll send to Paris for a French bonnet.  The going for it must wait a while longer I am afraid.’

‘You’re joking.’

’No, indeed.  If you know the way to send—­that I must confess would puzzle me; but if you’ll manage the sending, I’ll manage the paying; and you shall have a French bonnet.’

‘Uncle!’ said she, looking up at him.

‘Oh, I’m not joking; I owe you a present, and I’ll give you that.’