r of his inventions--has become a series of atmospheric
phenomena, and the labours of Hercules prove to be a dozen weather
bulletins.

"Is it any cause for wonder, that under this cheerless influence our
poetry is either silent or unsold? The true poet must be ignorant, for
information is the thief of rhyme. And it is only in dealing with--"

Kennaston paused. Margaret had appeared in the vestibule, and behind
her stood her father, looking very grave.

"We have made a most interesting discovery," Miss Hugonin airily
announced to the world at large. "It appears that Uncle Fred left all
his property to Mr. Woods here. We found the will only last night. I'm
sure you'll all be interested to learn I'm a pauper now, and intend to
support myself by plain sewing. Any work of this nature you may
choose to favour me with, ladies and gentlemen, will receive my most
_earnest_ attention."

She dropped a courtesy. The scene appealed to her taste for the
dramatic.

Billy came toward her quickly.

"Peggy," he demanded of her, in the semi-privacy of the vestibule,
"will you kindly elucidate the meaning of this da--this idiotic
foolishness?"

"Why, this," she explained, easily, and exhibited a folded paper. "I
found it in the grate last night."

He inspected it with large eyes. "That's absurd," he said, at length.
"You know perfectly well this will isn't worth the paper it's written
on."

"My dear sir," she informed him, coldly, "you are vastly mistaken. You
see, I've burned the other one." She pushed by him. "Mr. Kennaston,
are you ready for our walk? We'll finish the paper some other time.
Wasn't it the strangest thing in the world--?" Her dear, deep, mellow
voice died away as she and Kennaston disappeared in the gardens.

Billy gasped.

But meanwhile, Colonel Hugonin had given the members of his daughter's
house-party some inkling as to the present posture of affairs. They
were gazing at Billy Woods rather curiously. He stood in the vestibule
of Selwoode, staring after Margaret Hugonin; but they stared at him,
and over his curly head, sculptured above the door-way, they saw the
Eagle--the symbol of the crude, incalculable power of wealth.

Mr. Woods stood in the vestibule of his own house.

XVII

"By gad!" said Colonel Hugonin, very grimly, "anybody would think
you'd just lost a fortune instead of inheriting one! Wish you joy of
it, Billy. I ain't saying, you know, we shan't miss it, my daughter
and I--no, bega