ashamed to say that I
have almost lost my head over the business, and have behaved like
a--well, anything but like a staid and sober old solicitor."

He laughed, and blew his nose, and nodded with a shamefaced joy which
affected Ida even more than his wonderful news had done.

"How can I thank you for all your goodness to me," she murmured, a
little brokenly.

"Thank me! Don't you attempt to thank me, or I shall break down
altogether; for I've been the stupidest and most wooden-headed idiot
that ever disgraced a noble profession. I ought to have seen through
your father's affectation of miserliness and indifference. Anybody but
a silly old numskull would have done so. But, my dear, why are we
staying here, why don't we go away at once? You'd like to go back to
Herondale by the first train? You must hate the sight of this place, I
should think."

"No, no," said Ida, gently. "Yes, I would like to go back to
Herondale--ah, yes, as soon as possible. But I should like to see
someone before I go--the sister, the nurse, who have been so good to
me. You are sure"--she paused and went on shyly, "you are sure there is
no mistake, that I have some money, am rich?"

"Rich as Croesus, my dear child," he responded, with a laugh.

She blushed still more deeply.

"Then, have you--have you any money with you, Mr. Wordley? I mean quite
a large sum of money?" "Not a very large sum, my dear," he replied,
rather puzzled. "About twenty or thirty pounds, perhaps."

Ida's face fell.

"Oh, that is not nearly enough," she murmured.

"Eh?" he asked. "But I've got my cheque-book with me. How much do you
want? And, forgive me, my dear Miss Ida, but may I ask what you want it
for?"

"Can I have a cheque for five hundred pounds?" Ida asked, timidly.

"Five thousand, fifty thousand, my dear!" he responded, promptly, and
with no little pride and satisfaction.

"Five hundred will do--for the present," she said a little nervously.
"Perhaps the porter will let you draw it out."

Still puzzled, Mr. Wordley went into the porter's box and took out his
cheque-book.

"Make it payable to the hospital--and give it to me, please," said Ida,
in a low voice.

The old man's face cleared, and he nodded.

"Of course, of course! God bless you, my dear! I might have known what
was in that good, grateful heart of yours. See here, I've made it out
for a thousand pounds. That's five hundred for you and five hundred for
me--and don't you say a word to