“Mrs. Sawyer says she will be proud and pleased to let us use her kitchen for nothing,” Sydney said, “but we must pay her for the fire. She doesn’t have one in the afternoons, as a rule. How much does a fire cost, Miss Osric?”
The girl was puckering¹ her brows over a business-like account book open on the table before her. Miss Osric stood opposite, driving a great pair of squeaking² scissors through a double fold of flannel³.
“We should want it for about two hours, shouldn’t we?” she said, in answer to Sydney’s question. “It would probably cost about sevenpence a time, but that depends upon the sort of coal Mrs. Sawyer has, and how big a fire you mean to keep.”
“Fourteen pence—one and twopence a week,” Sydney said, noting the fact down in her
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 account book. “And then there is the tea,” she went on. “I wonder how much that will cost? And I don’t suppose the people will be able to pay much at first towards the stuff they use. They are so poor, and one wants to help them.”
“Let them pay something towards it, Sydney,” said Miss Osric; “don’t make paupers⁴ of them—that is a mistake. Say they pay half expenses.”
“Well, perhaps,” the girl said. “How many petticoats will that roll of flannel make, do you think?”
“Not very many, and flannel is so dreadfully expensive; you will have to use flannelette, I think.”
“No, it must be flannel,” said Sydney. “I asked Dr. Lorry, and he said rheumatic people should wear flannel. And you know how dreadfully rheumatic they are here.”
There was another anxious calculation of accounts, which lasted until Sydney, pulling out the lovely little gold watch which had been her cousin’s present to her on her birthday, a day or two ago, found that it was time to dress for going out with Lady Frederica.
The girl had lost no time on her return from that Christmas visit at the Deanery in
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 starting on her plans. Miss Osric proved a willing helper, and Lady Frederica, approached judiciously⁵ at a

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