n with her assertion, "She was his daughter."

"He told me so," she continued.

"He did? When?" Howard asked, and Eloise replied, "I asked him, and his
eyes looked yes, and when I said, 'You are my grandfather?' I was very
sure he nodded. I know he meant it."

The lawyer smiled and answered her, "That is something, but not enough.
We must have a will or some document. He might have been your mother's
father. I think he was; and still, she may not be--be--"

He hesitated, for Eloise's eyes were fixed upon him, and the hot blood
of shame was crimsoning her face. After a moment he continued, "A will
can set things right; or, if we can prove a marriage, all will be fair
sailing for your mother and you."

"I was not thinking of myself," Eloise returned. "I am thinking of
mother. I know all the dreadful gossip and everything. Mrs. Biggs has
told me, and I am going to find out. Somebody knows, and I shall find
them."

She looked very fearless as she left the room, and Howard felt that she
would be no weak antagonist if he wanted to contest his right to the
estate. But he didn't, he told himself, and Mr. Ferris, too. He was
willing to abide by the law. If there was a will he'd like to find it;
and, in any case, should be generous to Amy and--Eloise!

"No doubt of it," the lawyer said, looking at him now over his
spectacles, and taking a second pinch of snuff preparatory to the search
among the dead man's papers, which Howard suggested that he make.

Every place Howard had gone through was gone through again,--every paper
unfolded and every envelope looked into. There was no will or scrap of
writing bearing upon Amy. There were some receipts from Tom Hardy, of
Palatka, for money received from the Colonel and paid over to Eudora
Harris, and at these the lawyer looked curiously.

"Harris was the name Amy sometimes went by before her marriage, I
believe," he said. "Eudora was probably her mother. Now, if we can find
Tom Hardy we may learn something. Shall I write to Palatka and inquire?"

"Certainly," Howard replied, with a choke in his throat which he managed
to hide from the lawyer.

He didn't mean to be a scoundrel. He only wanted his own, and he meant
to do right if chance made him master of Crompton, he said to himself,
as he went to the drawing-room, where Jack and Eloise were sitting with
a few friends who seemed to be waiting for something. Ruby and Mrs.
Biggs, who, on the strength of their intimacy with Eloise,