They brought her the pen and paper and called the woman, who came in stolidly, ready for any emergency. Then they waited for commands, but for several seconds there was a dead pause, and Granny Dixon lay back, staring straight before her. "Quick!" said Rachel Ffrench. "What do you want?" Granny Dixon rose by a great effort upright from her pillows. She pointed to Mrs. Briarley with the sharp, bony fore-finger. "I--leave it--aw--to _her_," she proclaimed, "--ivvery penny! She's th' ony one among 'em as is na a foo'!" And then she fell back, and panted and stared again. Mrs. Briarley lifted her apron and burst into tears. "She means th' brass," she wailed. "Eh! Poor owd lass, who'd ha' thowt it!" "Do you mean," asked Rachel Ffrench, "that you wish her to have your money?" A nod was the answer, and Mrs. Briarley shed sympathetic tears again. Here was a reward for her labors indeed. What she wrote Miss Ffrench scarcely knew. In the end there was her own name signed below, and a black, scrawling mark from Granny Dixon's hand. The woman who had come in made her mark also. "Mak' a black un," said the testatrix. "Let's ha' it plain." Then, turning to Rachel: "Does ta want to know wheer th' money come fro'? Fro' Will Ffrench--fro' _him_. He wur one o' th' gentry when aw wur said an' done--an' I wur a han'some lass." When it was done they all stood and looked at each other. Granny Dixon lay back upon her pillows, drawing sharp breaths. She was looking only at Rachel Ffrench. She seemed to have forgotten all the rest of them, and what she had been doing. All that was left of the Voice was a loud, halting whisper. "Wheer's th' flower?" she said. "I conna smell it." It was in her hand. Rachel Ffrench drew back. "Let me go," she said to Mrs. Briarley. "I cannot stay here." "He used to wear 'em i' his button-hole," she heard, "--seventy year ago--an' she's th' very moral on him." And scarcely knowing how, she made her way past the women, and out of the house and into the fresh air and sunshine. "Drive home," she said to the coachman, "as quickly as possible." She leaned back in a corner of the carriage shuddering. Suddenly she burst into wild tears. But there were no traces of her excitement when she reached home. She descended from the carriage looking quite herself, and after dismissing it went up to her own room. About half an hour later she came down and went into the library. Her father was not there, and on inquiring as to his whereabouts from a servant passing the open door, she was told that he had gone out. He had been writing letters, it was evident. His chair stood before his desk, and there was an addressed envelope lying upon it. She went to the desk and glanced at it without any special motive for doing so. It was addressed to herself. She opened and read it.