"I often wonder what's the use of farthings," I heard him say as he turned one over in the bunch of knicknacks. "They won't buy anything (unless it's a box of matches). They only help tradesmen to cheat when they're 'selling off.'" "I beg your pardon," said Miss Chislett, "I have bought most charming things for a farthing each." "So have I," said I, turning round on my chair, and joining in the conversation, which seemed less purposeless after I began to take part in it. Leo looked at us both with a puzzled air. "Frying-pans, for instance," said Miss Chislett. "--and gridirons," said I. "Plates, knives, and forks," said the heiress. "--and flat irons," I concluded; playing involuntarily with the blob of lead which still hung at my watch-chain. Polly had finished her performance, and was now standing near us. She understood the allusion, and laughed. "Do _you_ know what they're talking about?" asked Sir Lionel, going up to her. I sat down by the heiress. "Were you ever at Oakford?" she asked, turning her grey eyes on me. She spoke almost abruptly, and with a touch of imperiousness that suddenly recalled to me where I had seen those eyes before. "Certainly," said I, "and at the tinsmith's." "What were you doing there?" she asked, and after all these years there was no mistaking the accent and gesture of the little lady of the grey beaver. Before she had well begun her apology for the question, I had answered it, "BUYING A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING." * * * * * "Well, you've gone it hard to-night, old fellow," said Damer, as we drove away from the Towers. "You and Miss Chislett will be county talk for six months to come." "Nonsense," said I, "we knew each other years ago, and had a good deal to talk about." But to Polly, as we parted for the night in the corridor, I said, "My dear child, to add to all the family complications, I'm head over ears in love with the future Lady Damer." CHAPTER XXXI MY LADY FRANCES--THE FUTURE LADY DAMER--WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AT LAST