Francesca. "Oh yes, so I did: and to Mr. Godolphin that I could.
I remember now; but that's only two."
Salemina. "How about the hairdresser whom you stopped coming from
Kensington?"
Francesca. "Yes, she's the third, that's all right then; but what
in the world is this twelve shillings?"
Penelope. "The foolish amber beads you were persuaded into buying
in the Burlington Arcade?"
Francesca. "No, those were seven shillings, and they are splitting
already."
Salemina. "Those soaps and sachets you bought on the way home the
day that you left your purse in the cab?"
Francesca. "No; they were only five shillings. Oh, perhaps they
lumped the two things; if seven and five are twelve, then that is
just what they did. (Here she takes a pencil.) Yes, they are
twelve, so that's right; what a comfort! Now here's two and six on
the 13th. That was yesterday, and I can always remember yesterdays;
they are my strong point. I didn't spend a penny yesterday; oh yes!
I did pay half a crown for a potted plant, but it was not two and
six, and it was a half-crown because it was the first time I had
seen one and I took particular notice. I'll speak to Dawson about
it, but it will make no difference. Nobody but an expert English
accountant could find a flaw in one of these bills and prove his
case."
By this time we have agreed that the weekly bill as a whole is
substantially correct, and all that Salemina has to do is to
estimate our several shares in it; so Francesca and I say good night
and leave her toiling like Cicero in his retirement at Tusculum.
