Over a friendly cup of tea letters were exchanged then and there, thus enabling Mrs. Strong’nth’arm to dismiss all thought of other houses that had been offered her. Mrs. Strong’nth’arm undertook to pay Miss Warmington three hundred pounds and to take over Miss Warmington’s lease with all its covenants, together with all fixtures and such furniture as Miss Warmington would not require for her own small needs. “And where the money’s to come from I suppose you know,” commented Mrs. Strong’nth’arm, as the door of 15 Bruton Square closed behind them. “Blessed if I do!” Anthony laughed. “That’ll be all right, mother,” he said. “Don’t you worry.” “To hear him!” murmured his mother, addressing the darkening sky above her. “Talking about three hundred pounds to be paid next Tuesday week and laughing about it! Ah! if your poor father had only had your head.” He explained to his aunt that this time there would be good security and that in consequence she was going to get only five per cent. She tried to make him say seven, more from general principle than with any hope of success. But he only laughed. By degrees he had constituted himself her man of business; and under his guidance her savings had rapidly increased. To Mrs. Newt a successful speculation proved that God was behind you. She had come to regard her nephew with reverence, as being evidently in the Lord’s counsels. He had a further proposition to put before her. The dogs had long ago been sold, and the old railway carriage had fallen into ruin. The tumble-down cottage, in which his aunt now lived alone, was threatening to follow its example; but the land on which it stood had grown in value. The price he felt sure he could get for it made her open her eyes. The cottage disposed of, she could come and live with them at Bruton Square, paying, of course, for her board and lodging. The sum he suggested per week made her open her eyes still wider. But he promised she should be comfortable and well looked after. Again she made a feeble effort to touch his heart, but he only kissed her and told her that he would see to everything and that she wasn’t to worry. Forty years--all but--she had dwelt in Prospect Cottage, Moor End Lane. She had been married from the Jolly Cricketers, and after a day’s honeymoon by the sea Joe had brought her there and never a night since then had she slept away from it. There had been fields about it in those days. She dratted the boy more than once or twice as she poked about the tiny rooms, selecting the few articles she intended to keep. But she was ready on the appointed day. She had purchased gloves and a new bonnet. One must needs be dressy for Bruton Square.