Ralph's letter ... Did it not say that he wanted
money?"

"Yes, it did. But I'm going to see about that--I and my father."

Old Maisie's voice became beseeching, gaining strength from earnestness.
"Oh my dear--do let me! And, after all, is it not his money? For I had
nothing of my own when I came back. I might have gone to the workhouse,
but for him." What followed, disjointedly, was an attempt to tell the
portion of her story that related to the miscarriage of her husband's
will.

"Very well, dear! It shall all be done as you wish it. I'll see to that.
The money shall be sent to Aunt M'riar, at Sapps Court, to give to him."

"Why is it Aunt M'riar, at Sapps Court? I know Aunt M'riar." Do what she
would, she could not grapple with these relativities. And, indeed, this
one was a mystery she could not have solved in any case.

CHAPTER XXVIII

HOW A BOOMER GOT AWAY. GRANNY MARRABLE'S THEISM. COLD FEET. HOW
GRANNY MARRABLE LOST HER HEAD. ADRIAN ON RESIGNATION. THE SHOP
OPPOSITE. HOW MAISIE HEARD HER SON'S LETTER, AND WISHED HIM TO KNOW
HE WAS POSSESSED. LADY ANCESTER'S REMONSTRANCE. HOW EMILY AND FANNY
WOULDED THAT THEIR LOVE. HOW MAISIE WANTED PETER, AND DOLLY MIGHT
NOT BE FRIGHTENED OF LAMBS. HOW SUSAN BURR WAS TO HAVE THE
FURNITURE. LAST MESSAGE TO DAVE AND DOLLY. MAISIE'S DEATH. HOW
GRANNY MARRABLE WENT AWAY TO SEE TO A NEWCOMER. HOW GWEN SLEPT, AND
WAKED, AND HOW THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THE EMPTY ROOM WHERE MRS.
PICTURE HAD BEEN, ON THE BED. HOW THE CONVICT CALLED TO INTRODUCE
HIMSELF. A DOG WHO HAD KILLED A MAN, WORTH FORTY POUNDS. HOW THE
CONVICT SAW WHAT WAS ON THE BED. THE CUT FINGER. INSPECTOR
THOMPSON. HOW RUTH HAD PASSED A TRAMP, ON THE ROAD

"Has she not talked at all about Australia, Granny?... No, thanks! I'm
sure it's a beautiful ham--but I shall do very nicely with this. One
very big lump of sugar, please, and plenty of milk, or I shall lie
awake." Thus Gwen, and the influence of Strides Cottage is visible in
her speech.

Old Maisie was again asleep, and they had left her and gone into the
front-room; as much to speak together without disturbing her as to get
their own suppers. They were doing this last, however, in a grudging
sort of fashion; for the pleasures of the table are no match for a
heartache. Gwen found it a solace to make her own toast with a long
toasting-fork, an experience which her career as an Earl's daughter h