heir hair."

"Upon my soul, it never occurred to me!"

"It wouldn't," she remarked, smiling. "But this is Margaret."

"Where's she been all the while?"

"Oh, only at school--there's no mystery. He was only at Hatcham Ford
four years--just her school years. He didn't bring her there in the
holidays, because that would have meant a chaperon--he couldn't have
looked after a girl--and he hated the idea of that. And I think he was
afraid, too, that the people wouldn't be nice to her. He was very
sensitive for her, though he wasn't at all for himself." She paused a
moment. "Does that explain anything else I've said?"

I thought, for a moment, over our talk. "About the marriage?"

"Yes," said Jenny. "It didn't seem fair to her without that. That
weighed with him more than anything else--and with me, too, a good deal.
I don't think I need be ashamed of that."

"Certainly you needn't--quite the contrary in fact."

"We should have wanted her to be with us--to pay us visits anyhow--at
least until she married. Yes, it wouldn't have been just." She frowned
impatiently; still more than anything else, Margaret Octon seemed to
bring home to her the difficult side--the side most hard to defend--of
what she had done and contemplated. She passed away from it without more
words.

"When he was dying he gave her to me. That put an end to the quarrel I
told you about. It gave me back some of him and gave me something to
live for. 'I know you'll do the handsome thing by her, Jenny,' he said.
I mean to try, Austin."

"I'm sure you do, but"--I could not help blurting it out--"won't her
being here make matters worse?"

"Worse or better, better or worse, here she's going to be," said Jenny.
"She's been with me nearly a year already. She's one of the two things
he's left behind him--to stay with me."

I did not ask what the other thing was.

"Is she to bear his name?"

"Of course she is. She's my friend and ward--and Leonard Octon's
daughter."

"Rather a pill for Catsford! Dear me, what a pretty little thing it is!"

"I'm very glad she's like that. It makes so much more possible. This is
a good gift that Leonard has left me. She's my joy--you must be my
consolation. I can't give you anything in return, but there's something
I can give her--and I'll give it full measure, for Leonard's sake." She
laughed, rather reluctantly, squeezing my arm again. "Oh, yes, and I'm
afraid a little bit because Jenny Driver still likes her own way!