e--not Liberia--no, that's farther on--Well, you say he came to
grandfather and asked him to give something to the fund." She was
regarding Madam Fulton with clear eyes of interrogation.

"No, no, I don't remember," said the old lady impatiently. "Well, go
on."

"You don't remember?"

"Yes, yes, of course I remember, in a way. But go on, Electra."

"Well, then the philanthropist asked him to be one of the five men who
would guarantee a certain sum at their death, and grandfather was
indignant and said, 'Charity begins at home.' Listen." She found her
page and read, "'I shall assuredly leave every inch of ground and every
cent I possess to my wife, and that, not because she is an advanced
woman but because she is not.'"

"Of course!" corroborated the old lady. "Precisely. There's a slap at
suffrage. That's what I mean it for, and you can tell 'em so."

Electra did not stop to register her pain at that. She held up one hand
to enjoin attention.

"But listen, grandmother. You don't see the bearing of it yet. That was
five years after grandfather made his will, leaving this place away from
you."

"Well, what of it?"

"Five years after, grandmother! And here, by his expressed intention, he
meant to leave it to you--not to his son, but you. Do you see what that
implies?"

"I don't know what it implies," said the old lady, "but I know I shall
fly all to pieces in about two minutes if you don't stop winding me up
and asking me questions."

Electra answered quite solemnly,--

"It means, grandmother, that legally I inherited this place. Ethically
it belongs to you. My grandfather meant to make another will. Here is
his expressed intention. He neglected doing it, as people are always
neglecting things that may be done at any time. It only remains for me
to make it over to you."

Madam Fulton lay back in her chair for a moment and stared. She seemed
incapable of measuring the irony she felt. But Electra went quietly
on,--

"There is simply nothing else for me to do, and I shall do it."

Madam Fulton gasped a little and then gave up speaking. Again she
glanced at the window and wished for Billy Stark. Electra was observing
her compassionately.

"It excites you, doesn't it?" she was saying. "I don't wonder."

Now the old lady found her tongue, but only to murmur,--

"I can't even laugh. It's too funny; it's too awfully funny."

"Let me get you a little wine." Electra had put her papers together and
now she r