"Now why didn't you tell me that before?" said Miss Yard crossly. "Of course, lawyers will do anything. The people who did my father's business were the only honest lawyers I ever came across. This house belongs to me, and you shall stay here as long as you like. If you'll find my cheque-book I will write to this man at once--I mean, if you will bring my pen, you shall have a little present, for you are always so thoughtful. I am so sorry your poor dear mother didn't leave you much." George had not time to correct her error; besides, it was useless. He brought her writing materials after a vain search for the cheque-book, for Nellie had taken possession of that, and said, "I don't want to confuse you, Aunt, but I suppose you will be leaving Nellie something?" "Everything I have," replied Miss Yard earnestly. "I am leaving her the house, and all the furniture, my clothes and jewels, and as much money as I can save. I could not rest if I thought dear Nellie would be left unprovided for. You will look after Nellie, won't you? I should be so pleased if you would adopt her as your daughter." "I'm not quite old enough," George stammered. "Nonsense, you look quite elderly," said Miss Yard encouragingly. "And Nellie is such a child." "If I had been younger I might have thought about marrying her," said George awkwardly. "Now that would have been a nice idea! What a pity it is you are not forty years younger." "You are thinking of someone else," cried George despairingly. "Oh, I'm sure you are sixty. Your mother married when I was quite a girl. I do remember that, for I got so excited at the wedding that, when the clergyman asked her if she wanted the man, I thought he was speaking to me, and I said, 'Yes, please,' and poor Louisa gave me such a look, and I went into hysterics. Girls can't go into hysterics in these days like we used to do. It's funny how well I remember all these things that happened in our young days, but then for an old woman my memory is wonderful. What were we talking about before you mentioned your mother's wedding?" "About Mr. Hunter, the lawyer who has ordered me to leave you," replied George, deciding to say no more of his matrimonial intentions. "I never heard of such impertinence in my life. He will be telling me next I don't own the place," cried Miss Yard, stabbing with her pen in the direction of the ink pot. "What am I to say to the wretch?" "Remind him I am your nephew, and I have every right to enjoy your hospitality. Tell him I am indispensable to you. Then you might add something about the wickedness of depriving an orphan of his home, and conclude by mentioning that you will never consent to my leaving you." "I'll tell him, if he persecutes you any more, I will put the matter into the hands of my own solicitor," Miss Yard declared, scribbling away briskly, for her greatest delight, next to chattering, was letter writing.