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fire, fronting Mr. Didlington, who, with his fingers inserted between the loose plages of this calamitous will, swayed heavily and limply before him, like an obsequious but surly seneschal whose account has proved faulty.
    “The whole of . . . this . . . forty thousand . . . left absolutely to this man . . . and no chance ... of legal action . . . that ... in short ... is the situation?”
    Mr. Didlington began murmuring something in a husky, injured voice; but it was only the word “legacies” that reached the ears of John and Mary.
    “Damn your legacies!” said Philip in the same tone. “Two hundred a year from the Norwich property to my aunt; and a hundred in cash to the servants. That's all of your precious legacies there are. The maddening thing is that it was Tilly and I who introduced this sly dog to Grandfather.”
    His voice changed a little and he looked towards his wife.
    Tilly Crow had drawn up her thin legs in the great arm-chair and, with her hands clasped so violently in her lap that the knuckles showed white, stared at him with frightened eyes.
    “Where is this thief, Tilly?” he said, in a much gentler voice. “Where is this holy rascal who has fooled us all?” The fact that he had displayed self-control enough to speak in a half-humorous tone was in itself sufficient to bring about the recovery of his equanimity. “Why,” he finally remarked, looking round with the air of a monarch addressing his courtiers after the loss of a battle, ''why doesn't someone fetch this good, religious man and let me offer him our united congratulations!"
    “The furniture,” murmured Tilly. “Did he say the furniture was to be divided equally? Does that mean, Philip, that we can't have the silver with your grandmother's crest on it? Ask them, Philip, ask them now! They will give us the silver, won't they? And the linen? We don't want any more furniture, Philip, but these girls must let me have the linen! Tell them we don't want any heavy furniture, Philip. Tell them we want the silver and linen.”
    Aunt Elizabeth herself rose heavily from her seat now. Her thoughts had been wandering away to Glastonbury, where thirty years ago she had been so fond of the youthful Vicar of the place, who had jilted her. to marry a maid-servant. She completely disregarded Tilly and addressed herself to her nephew. “You are thinking only of your own affairs, Philip,” she said sternly. She looked at him, as she spoke, without a trace of the respectful awe into which he had bullied the others. “Why don't you and Tilly congratulate me on my two hundred a year?”
    There was a weight of character in Aunt Elizabeth when she was on her feet and confronting her nephew that enabled her to reduce his importance and to reduce his loss of forty thousand pounds! Mary pinched John's arm with delight and whispered to him something he could not catch. It was from the other young couple in the room, however, that the next word came.
    “Percy and I congratulate you, Aunt,” cried Mr. Spear.
    “Yes, yes,” echoed Persephone, straightening her shoulders and tossing her head, “and we hope you'll come out of the enemy's camp now and listen to wisdom.”
    Miss Crow moved towards them, attracted by something so kind in their tone that it surprised and disarmed her. “Pm in no enemy's camp, Percy,” she murmured, putting her arm round the tall girl's waist “I am an old-fashioned woman, and very fond of my dear nephew and niece. I know nothing about politics—any more than Mary does,” she added, making an instinctive movement to bring the four young people together. John and Mary did approach her.
    “If there is to be anybody's wisdom thrust upon Aunt Elizabeth,” John threw in, “I think mine would suit her best.”
    “What do you mean by that, Mr. Crow?” said young Spear, in an argumentative tone.
    “Yes, what do you mean, John?” repeated Persephone. “You don't mean that Dave and I would try and browbeat Aunt Elizabeth, to