“Oh! it’s little enough,” replied Georgiana, “because Ma always treats me as if I was in the nursery (I am sure I wish I was!), but I hardly ever spend it and it has mounted up to fifteen pounds, Sophronia, and I hope three five-pound notes are better than nothing, though so little, so little! And now I have found that⁠—oh, my goodness! there’s the other gone next! Oh no, it isn’t, here it is!”

With that, always sobbing and searching in the reticule, Georgiana produced a necklace.

“Ma says chits and jewels have no business together,” pursued Georgiana, “and that’s the reason why I have no trinkets except this, but I suppose my aunt Hawkinson was of a different opinion, because she left me this, though I used to think she might just as well have buried it, for it’s always kept in jewellers’ cotton. However, here it is, I am thankful to say, and of use at last, and you’ll sell it, dear Sophronia, and buy things with it.”