“Then we must go by it!” exclaimed Mrs. Legg, jumping to her feet and beginning immediately to lock up cupboards and set back chairs. “What!” cried John Legg, aghast at this impetuosity. “We must go by it, or he may be dead before we get there, and his hospital left to fortunes!” exclaimed Julia in such trepidation that she reversed her words and never perceived that she did so, nor, in his bewilderment, did John. “But we haven’t half an hour to get ready in!” he pleaded. “We must get ready in less time!” cried Mrs. Legg, turning to run up the stairs that led from one corner of the back room. “What’ll I do about the shop?” called John in dismay. “Leave it to the boy a day or two,” replied Julia from the head of the stairs. “Everything will go to rack and ruin!” cried the greengrocer. “John Legg!” demanded his wife, rushing down the stairs fully equipped for the journey with bonnet and big shawl, an umbrella and bag in hand—“do you mean for the sake of a paltry, two-penny-ha’-penny shop, not worth fifty pounds, to risk an immense fortune, that will make you a millionaire, or a silver or a gold king, or a brown answer (bonanza?), or something of the sort?” “‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ my dear,” said the man. “Jedehiah Judkins, come here and bring your master’s overcoat! And, Jed, do you mind the shop well while we are gone, and get Widow Willet’s Bob to come and help you, and I’ll pay him and give you half a sovereign if we find all right when we come back Saturday night,” said Mrs. Legg. The boy, who had just come in with his empty basket from delivering vegetables about the town, hastened with big eyes into the back room to obey his mistress’ orders. John Legg submitted. He always did. Julia went about fastening doors and windows, and lastly raking out and covering up the fire. Then leaving only the key of the front door with “the boy,” the pair left the house and hurried to the station, where they were just in time to buy their tickets and jump into a second-class carriage. And before John Legg had time to recover his routed and dispersed mental faculties they were whirled halfway to London. “You are the most energetic woman I ever saw in my life, Julia!” he said, trying to understand the situation. “Need to be when there is a brown answer fortune, and a silver kingdom, if not a gold one, in the question—yes, and a dear, dying uncle, too!” “I wonder if the boy will remember to take that celery to the vicarage when the market gardener brings it this afternoon?” “Oh, bother the celery, and the vicar, too! Think of the silver and gold kingdom—and—yes, of course, the poor, dear, dying uncle!” said Julia. And onward they flew northward toward Yorkshire, unconscious that they were destined to take a part in a very memorable drama to be enacted at Haymore Hall.