--put the bare
end of the quill into his mouth--gnawed at it thoughtfully--and said no
more.

"Yes, sir?" persisted Mrs. Lecount.

"The first thing is--"

"Yes, sir?"

"The first thing is, to--to make some provision for You?"

He spoke the last words in a tone of plaintive interrogation--as if all
hope of being met by a magnanimous refusal had not deserted him even
yet. Mrs. Lecount enlightened his mind on this point, without a moment's
loss of time.

"Thank you, Mr. Noel," she said, with the tone and manner of a woman who
was not acknowledging a favor, but receiving a right.

He took another bite at the quill. The perspiration began to appear on
his face.

"The difficulty is," he remarked, "to say how much."

"Your lamented father, sir," rejoined Mrs. Lecount, "met that difficulty
(if you remember) at the time of his last illness?"

"I don't remember," said Noel Vanstone, doggedly.

"You were on one side of his bed, sir, and I was on the other. We were
vainly trying to persuade him to make his will. After telling us he
would wait and make his will when he was well again, he looked round at
me, and said some kind and feeling words which my memory will treasure
to my dying day. Have you forgotten those words, Mr. Noel?"

"Yes," said Mr. Noel, without hesitation.

"In my present situation, sir," retorted Mrs. Lecount, "delicacy forbids
me to improve your memory."

She looked at her watch, and relapsed into silence. He clinched his
hands, and writhed from side to side of his chair in an agony of
indecision. Mrs. Lecount passively refused to take the slightest notice
of him.

"What should you say--?" he began, and suddenly stopped again.

"Yes, sir?"

"What should you say to--a thousand pounds?"

Mrs. Lecount rose from her chair, and looked him full in the face, with
the majestic indignation of an outraged woman.

"After the service I have rendered you to-day, Mr. Noel," she said, "I
have at least earned a claim on your respect, if I have earned nothing
more. I wish you good-morning."

"Two thousand!" cried Noel Vanstone, with the courage of despair.

Mrs. Lecount folded up her papers and hung her traveling-bag over her
arm in contemptuous silence.

"Three thousand!"

Mrs. Lecount moved with impenetrable dignity from the table to the door.

"Four thousand!"

Mrs. Lecount gathered her shawl round her with a shudder, and opened the
door.

"Five thousand!"

He clasped his hands, and wrung