“Not so much of the ‘old woman,’” the cook had answered sharply--she showed signs of age herself. “But I do agree with you, Mary, nevertheless. Ah, well, the old feller’s got the money-bags, and that goes a long way when it comes to marryin’, I always says. I never did hold with these love and cottage matches, nor I never shall. I’ve had some of it, I can tell you, and I have told you before now, but seein’ as my poor old man lies in Carlisle churchyard, _nil nisi bonus_. Isn’t that how they put it? And he had his good points for all he was poor as a rat, that I will admit.” Yootha Hagerston was one of Cora’s oldest and dearest friends, the one friend, indeed, of whom she had for years made an intimate confidant. Yootha was not married, but that was not due to any lack of suitors, for the proposals she had had were numerous. She was a very pretty girl, about two years younger than Cora: tall, slim, extremely graceful, and with a face full of expression. She was one of those girls who attract through their personality rather than by the beauty of their features. The look in the large intelligent eyes betrayed her temperamental nature. She lived alone in an unpretentious flat near Knightsbridge, which she had taken two years before, after leaving her home near Penrith owing, as she put it, to the “impossible sort of life my people expected me to lead, boxed up in the country and with nothing on earth to do.” The truth was that her stepmother disliked her, and that her father was intemperate. Yootha was the youngest of three children; her two brothers were serving oversea. When she entered Cora’s bedroom, Cora came forward and kissed her fondly. “You dear thing,” she exclaimed. “I am so glad you have come. I have not seen you for a week. Where in the world have you been?” “Oh, my people have been in town. You know what that means.” “Indeed I don’t! Your people? You mean your father and mother?” “Stepmother, if you please,” Yootha corrected. “For goodness’ sake don’t insult my mother’s memory. Yes, they both came up unexpectedly, and for what do you think?” “I give it up.” “To try to persuade me to go home!” and Yootha laughed merrily. “Can you see me back in the old homestead with its memories of my happy childhood’s days, and by contrast the atmosphere which prevails there now? No, thank you! And why do you think they wanted me back again, Cora?” “Oh, stop asking conundrums.”