y?"

Diana had just heard of the death of the eccentric old man who for fifty
years--bachelor and miser--had inhabited a dilapidated house in
the village.

"Well, he did. Yo may take it at that--yo may." (A mysterious phrase,
equivalent, no doubt, to the masculine oath.) "'Ee 'ad a lot of
money--Tom 'ad. Them two 'ouses was 'is what stands right be'ind
Learoyds', down the village."

"Who will they go to now, Betty?"

Betty's round, shapeless countenance, furrowed and scarred by time,
beamed with the joy of communication.

"_Chancery!_" she said, nodding. "Chancery'll 'ave 'em, in a
twelvemonth's time from now, if Mrs. Jack Murthly's Tom--young
Tom--don't claim 'em from South Africa--and the Lord knows where
_ee_ is!"

Diana tried to follow, held captive by a tyrannical pair of eyes.

"And what relation is Mrs. Jack Murthly to the man who died?"

"Brother's wife!" said Betty, sharply. "I thought you'd ha' known that."

"But if nothing is heard of the son, Betty--of young Tom--Mrs. Murthly's
two daughters will have the cottages, won't they?"

Betty's scorn made her rattle her stick on the flagged floor.

"They ain't daughters!--they're only 'alves."

"Halves?" said Diana, bewildered.

"Jack Murthly worn't their father!" A fresh shower of nods. "Yo may take
it at that!"

"Well, then, who--?"

Betty bent hastily forward--Diana had placed herself on a stool before
her--and, thrusting out her wrinkled lips, said, in a hoarse whisper:

"Two fathers!"

There was a silence.

"I don't understand, Betty," said Diana, softly.

"Jack was '_is_ father, all right--Tom's in South Africa. But he worn't
_their_ father, Mrs. Jack bein' a widder--or said so. They're only
'alves--and 'alves ain't no good in law; so inter Chancery those 'ouses
'll go, come a twelvemonth--yo may take it at that!" Diana laughed--a
young spontaneous laugh--the first since she had come home. She kept
Betty gossiping for half an hour, and as the stream of the village life
poured about her, in Betty's racy speech, it was as though some
primitive virtue entered into her and cheered her--some bracing voice
from the Earth-spirit--whose purpose is not missed

"If birth proceeds--if things subsist."

She rose at last, held Betty's hand tenderly, and went her way,
conscious of a return of natural pleasure, such as Italy had never
brought her, her heart opening afresh to England and the English life.

Perhaps she would find at home a let