junior partner, young Strong’nth’arm. Millsborough, believing in luck, put its money on him. The Coomber family had returned to The Abbey somewhat unexpectedly. No tenant for the house had come forward. Also Sir Harry had come into unexpected legacy. It was not much, but with economy it would enable them to keep up the old place. It had been the home of the Coomber family for many generations, and Sir Harry, not expecting to live long, was wishful to die there. Mr. Mowbray was away, and old Johnson, the head clerk, had gone up to The Abbey to welcome them home and talk a little business. “I doubt if they’ll be able to pull through,” he said to Anthony on his return to the office. “The grounds are all going to rack and ruin, to say nothing about the outbuildings and the farm. Even to keep it up as it is will take two thousand a year; and it doesn’t seem to me that, after paying the interest on the mortgage, he’ll have as much as that left altogether.” “What does he say himself?” asked Anthony. “Does he grasp it?” “‘Oh, after me the deluge!’ seems to be his idea,” answered old Johnson. “Reckons he isn’t going to live for more than two years, and may just as well live there. Talks of shutting up most of the rooms and eking out existence on the produce of the kitchen garden,” he laughed. “And Lady Coomber?” asked Anthony. “Oh, well, he’s fortunate there,” answered Johnson. “Give her a blackbird to sing to her and a few flowers to look after and you haven’t got to worry about her. Don’t see how they’re going to manage about the boy.” “He’s in the army, isn’t he?” said Anthony. “In the Guards,” answered Johnson. “They must be mad. Of course they’ve any amount of rich connections. But I don’t see their coming forward to that extent.” “He’ll have to exchange,” suggested Anthony. “Get out to India.” “Or else they’ll starve themselves to try and keep it up,” answered Johnson. “Funny thing, you can never get any sense into these old families. It’s the inter-breeding, I suppose. Of course, there’s the girl. She may perhaps put them on their legs again.” “By marrying some rich old bug?” said Anthony. “Or rich young one,” answered Johnson. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more lovely. I expect that’s why they’ve come back, if the truth were told. If her aunt took her up and ran her for a season in London there oughtn’t to be much difficulty.” “Except perhaps the girl,” suggested Anthony. “Oh! they look at things differently in that class,” answered old Johnson. “They’ve got to.”