traveller of German birth—if Mrs. Geldheraus spoke the truth, the water was well worth it.
Miss Semaphore scarcely allowed her mind to dwell on the ecstatic delight of being once more nineteen—intelligent nineteen this time, nineteen conscious of its powers, knowing the value of youth, enjoying the mere being young as no one could who had not been old. Had she dwelt on it, she would have felt prepared for this one good to give not only one thousand pounds, but her entire fortune and count it well spent. Still, common sense told her a thousand pounds was no trifle for a woman of her means. She could not raise it herself all at once.
On consideration, she decided to tell her sister, to share the bottle with her, and halve the expense. Prudence being younger, would naturally require less of the water. There was no need, however, to allude to that beforehand, else she might feel inclined to pay only in proportion.
The Misses Semaphore had had a life similar to that of many single women—a grey, colourless life, full of petty cares and petty interests. Born in a country town, where their parents were the magnates of a
