enevolent. After a pause she said--

"You see--their point is that later on he mayn't be able to make a
will."

"Look here," he questioned amicably, meeting her eyes, "what do you
think? What do you think yourself?"

"Oh!" she said, "I should never dream of bothering about it. I'm only
telling you what--"

"Of course you wouldn't!" he exclaimed. "No decent person would. Later
on, perhaps, if one could put in a word casually! But not now! ... If
he doesn't make a will he doesn't make one--that's all."

Maggie leaned against the mantelpiece.

"Mind your skirt doesn't catch fire," he warned her, in a murmur.

"I told them what you'd say," she answered his outburst, perfectly
unmoved. "I knew what you'd say. But what they say is--it's all very
well for you. You're the son, and it seems that if there isn't a will,
if it's left too late--"

This aspect of the case had absolutely not presented itself to Edwin.

"If they think," he muttered, with cold acrimony--"if they think I'm the
sort of person to take the slightest advantage of being the son--well,
they must think it--that's all! Besides, they can always talk to him
themselves--if they're so desperately anxious."

"You have charge of everything."

"Have I! ... And I should like to know what it's got to do with
auntie!"

Maggie lifted her head. "Oh, auntie and Clara, you know--you can't
separate them... Well, I've told you."

She moved to leave.

"I say," he stopped her, with a confidential appeal. "Don't you agree
with me?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "I think it ought to be left for a bit.
Perhaps he's made it, after all. Let's hope so. I'm sure it will save
a lot of trouble if he has."

"Naturally it ought to be left for a bit! Why--just look at him! ...
He might be on his blooming dying bed, to hear the way some people talk!
Let 'em mention it to me, and I'll tell 'em a thing or two!"

Maggie raised her eyebrows. She scarcely recognised Edwin.

"I suppose he'll be all right, downstairs?"

"Right? Of course he'll be all right!" Then he added, in a tone less
pugnacious--for, after all, it was not Maggie who had outraged his
delicacy, "Don't latch the door. Pull it to. I'll listen out."

She went silently away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THREE.

Searching with his body for the most comfortable deeps of the
easy-chair, he set himself to savour "Harper's." This monthly
rea