anaged for her by
her father's lawyer, and of course by Uncle Ewen. The money had been
paid temporarily in to her own account, till the lawyer could make some
enquiries about a fresh investment.

But it was her own money. She was entitled to--under the terms of her
father's letter to Uncle Ewen--to do what she liked with it. And even
without it, there was enough in the bank. Enough for this--and for
another purpose also, which lay even closer to her heart.

"I don't want any more new gowns for six months," she decided
peremptorily. "It's disgusting to be so well off. Well, now,--I
wonder--I wonder where Nora keeps those statements that Alice
talks about?"

In the schoolroom of course. But not under lock and key. Nobody ever
locked drawers in that house. It was part of the general
happy-go-luckishness of the family.

Connie made up the fire, and sat over it, thinking hard. A new
cheque-book, too, had arrived with the bank-book. That was useful.

She waited till she heard the schoolroom door open, and Nora come
upstairs, followed soon by the slow and weary step of Uncle Ewen. Connie
had already lowered her gas before Nora reached the top landing.

The house was very soon silent. Connie turned her light on again, and
waited. By the time Big Ben had struck one o'clock, she thought it would
be safe to venture.

She opened her door with trembling, careful fingers, slipped off her
shoes, took a candle and stole downstairs. The schoolroom door creaked
odiously. But soon she was inside and looking about her.

There was Nora's table, piled high with the books and note-books of her
English literature work. Everything else had been put away. But the top
drawer of the table was unlocked. There was a key in it, but it would
not turn, being out of repair, like so much else in the house.

Connie, full of qualms, slowly opened the drawer. It was
horrid--horrid--to do such things!--but what other way was there? Nora
must be presented with the _fait accompli_, otherwise she would upset
everything--poor old darling!

Some loose sheets lay on the top of the papers in the drawer. The first
was covered with figures and calculations that told nothing. Connie
lifted it, and there, beneath, lay Nora's latest "statement," at which
she and her father had no doubt been working that very night. It was
headed "List of Liabilities," and in it every debt, headed by the bank
claim which had broken the family back, was accurately and clearly