At the name, Arabella and Cornelia drew nearer to his chair.

“Given up Besworth, papa?  It is not we who have given it up,” said Adela.

“Yes, you have; and quite right too.  You say, ’What’s the use of it, for that’s a sort of thing that always goes to the son.’”

“You suppose, papa, that we indulge in ulterior calculations?” came from Cornelia.

“Well, you see, my love!—­no, I don’t suppose it at all.  But to buy a place and split it up after two or three years—­I dare say they wouldn’t insure me for more, that’s nonsense.  And it seems unfair to you, as you must think—­”

“Darling papa! we are not selfish!” it rejoiced Adela to exclaim.

His face expressed a transparent simple-mindedness that won the confidence of the ladies and awakened their ideal of generosity.

“I know what you mean, papa,” said Arabella.  “But, we love Besworth; and if we may enjoy the place for the time that we are all together, I shall think it sufficient.  I do not look beyond.”

Her sisters echoed the sentiment, and sincerely.  They were as little sordid as creatures could be.  If deeply questioned, it would have been found that their notion of the position Providence had placed them in (in other words, their father’s unmentioned wealth), permitted them to be as lavish as they pleased.  Mr. Pole had endowed them with a temperament similar to his own; and he had educated it.  In feminine earth it flourished wonderfully.  Shy as himself, their shyness took other forms, and developed with warm youth.  Not only did it shut them up from others (which is the first effect of this disease), but it tyrannized over them internally:  so that there were subjects they had no power to bring their minds to consider.  Money was in the list.  The Besworth question, as at present considered, involved the money question.  All of them felt that; father and children.  It is not surprising, therefore, that they hurried over it as speedily as they could, and by a most comical exhibition of implied comprehension of meanings and motives.

“Of course, we’re only in the opening stage of the business,” said Mr. Pole.  “There’s nothing decided, you know.  Lots of things got to be considered.  You mean what you say, do you?  Very well.  And you want me to think of it?  So I will.  And look, my dears, you know that—­” (here his voice grew husky, as was the case with it when touching a shy topic even beneath the veil; but they were above suspicion) “you know that—­a—­that we must all give way a little to the other, now and then.  Nothing like being kind.”

“Pray, have no fear, papa dear!” rang the clear voice of Arabella.

“Well, then, you’re all for Besworth, even though it isn’t exactly for your own interest?  All right.”

The ladies kissed him.

“We’ll each stretch a point,” he continued.  “We shall get on better if we do.  Much!  You’re a little hard on people who’re not up to the mark.  There’s an end to that.  Even your old father will like you better.”