The major was not present. The major liked to lie in bed rather late in a morning; which was not good for him. But for his indolent habits, he need not have been quite so stout as he was. Frank Raynor glanced at the bureau, opposite to him as he sat, and wondered whether his uncle had recollected more about the one desired item of the will within it during his sleep. "Has Uncle Francis had a good night, aunt?" asked Frank, who was inwardly just as impatient as he could be for news, and perhaps thought he might gather some idea by the question. "My dear, he always sleeps well," said Mrs. Raynor. "_Too_ well, I think. It is not good for a man of his age." "How can a man sleep too well, mamma?" cried one of the children. "Well, my darling, I judge by the snoring. Poor papa snores dreadfully in his sleep." "Will he be long before he's down, do you suppose, Aunt Mary?" "I hear him getting up, Frank. He is early this morning because you are here." And, indeed, in a minute or two the major entered: his flowery silk dressing-gown--all the worse for wear, like the children's clothes--flowing around him, his hearty voice sending forth its greeting. For some little time the children kept up an incessant fire of questions; Frank could not get one in. But his turn came. "Have you remembered that, Uncle Francis, now that you have slept upon it?" The major looked across the table. Just for the moment he did not speak. Frank went on eagerly. "Sometimes things that have dropped out of our memory come back to us in a dream. I have heard of instances. Did it chance so to you last night, uncle?" "My dear boy, I dreamt that a great big shark with open jaws was running after me, and I could not get out of the water." "Then--have you not recollected anything?" "I fear not, Frank. I shall see as the day goes on." But the day went on, and no recollection upon the point came back to Major Raynor. He "slept upon it" a second night, and still with the same result. "I am very sorry, my boy," he said, grasping Frank's hand at parting, as they stood alone together on the grass-plot for a moment. "Goodness knows, I'd tell you if I could. Should the remembrance come to me later--and I dare say it will: I don't see why it should not--I'll write off at once to you at Trennach. Meanwhile, you may safely count on one thing--that the sum's a good one." "You think so?" said Frank. "I more than think so; I'm next door to sure of it. It's in the thousands. Yes, I feel certain of that." "And so will I, then, uncle, in my own mind." It would have been strange had Frank, with his sanguine nature, not felt so, thus encouraged. "I can be laying out my plans accordingly."