sundry
heavy items. "What those shares are really worth I cannot understand,
and nobody seems able to tell one. They must make it out among
them as best they can. Let me see; that's Boxall Hill, and this is
Greshamsbury. I'll put a newspaper over Greshamsbury, or the squire
will know it!" and then, having made his arrangements, he went to his
breakfast.

I know I am wrong, my much and truly honoured critic, about these
title-deeds and documents. But when we've got that barrister in
hand, then if I go wrong after that, let the blame be on my own
shoulders--or on his.

The doctor ate his breakfast quickly; and did not talk much to his
niece. But what he did say was of a nature to make her feel strangely
happy. She could not analyse her own feelings, or give a reason for
her own confidence; but she certainly did feel, and even trust, that
something was going to happen after breakfast which would make her
more happy than she had been for many months.

"Janet," said he, looking at his watch, "if Mr Gresham and Mr
Frank call, show them into my study. What are you going to do with
yourself, my dear?"

"I don't know, uncle; you are so mysterious, and I am in such a
twitter, that I don't know what to do. Why is Mr Gresham coming
here--that is, the squire?"

"Because I have business with him about the Scatcherd property. You
know that he owed Sir Louis money. But don't go out, Mary. I want you
to be in the way if I should have to call for you. You can stay in
the drawing-room, can't you?"

"Oh, yes, uncle; or here."

"No, dearest; go into the drawing-room." Mary obediently did as she
was bid; and there she sat, for the next three hours, wondering,
wondering, wondering. During the greater part of that time, however,
she well knew that Mr Gresham, senior, and Mr Gresham, junior, were
both with her uncle, below.

At eleven o'clock the doctor's visitors came. He had expected them
somewhat earlier, and was beginning to become fidgety. He had so much
on his hands that he could not sit still for a moment till he had, at
any rate, commenced it. The expected footsteps were at last heard on
the gravel-path, and a moment or two afterwards Janet ushered the
father and son into the room.

The squire did not look very well. He was worn and sorrowful, and
rather pale. The death of his young creditor might be supposed to
have given him some relief from his more pressing cares, but the
necessity of yielding to Frank's wishes had al