"I can't prevent it unless I shut the window, and don't want to do that," she said. "I wanted to say that--to remind you that my aunt is not going to live for ever," George continued. "That's not talking about me." "Ah, but I'm coming to you presently." "You can stay where you are," she said coldly. "Miss Yard won't live for ever either," said George, more confidently. "She can't leave you anything, because all her money goes to my beastly cousin Percy. I know she is always promising to leave you money, but she can't do it." "I am to have her furniture anyhow," said Nellie, removing her hands from the machine, and turning at last towards the window. "Oh no! I get that. Aunt Sophy's furniture is to go with the rest." "Is that really true?" asked Nellie, who had good reason to be suspicious of Miss Yard's promises. "Yes, it all comes to me," said George eagerly. "I shall have the furniture, and the house, and the cash my aunt leaves. The two Chinese vases aunt keeps underneath her bed are worth a thousand pounds; that's a great secret, and I wouldn't tell any one but you. The other things will fetch five hundred pounds. Then I shall have the money that aunt leaves--perhaps another five hundred. Then the property will bring another thousand. So you see, when the old ladies die, I shall have pots of money." "It will mean more to be you then than it does now," said Nellie darkly. "Yes, I shall be quite rich. You see, there's no reason why I should work, as aunt is well past seventy." "But I thought you were going to do something great and wonderful on the railway?" "That was an idea, but I can't afford to leave the place; that's another secret, Nellie, and I wouldn't tell any one but you. I am so afraid aunt may give away the vases. She's getting a bit queer in her memory too, and she's always giving away things. When I went to see about a job on the railway she sent a lot of my things to a rummage sale. She has given Kezia the bed she sleeps on, and a lot more things; but they all belong to me, and I shall claim them when she dies." "She has promised me the round table in the parlour," said Nellie. "Of course I don't mind what she gives you," said George awkwardly. "Many thanks. Now I must go and put on the kettle for tea. You have told me such a lot about myself." "Yes, and I've got still more to say. I shall have quite three thousand pounds--and my tastes are very simple. I don't expect much, and I don't ask for much. It's my own belief that I can put up with almost anybody." "Now I'm in for it!" Nellie murmured, with a scorching glance at the somewhat dejected figure in the garden. "I have always flattered myself," George rambled on, with the feeling that eloquence had come to him at last, "I can get along anyhow with anyone." "You mustn't be too complimentary. Flattery alone is not worth much, you know," she said carelessly.