"For my part, I much prefer 'Macleod of Dare,'" declared Verona. This remark at once started an animated discussion. And now that the conversation circled round books and pictures, poor Pussy was completely out of her depth, and could contribute nothing beyond the language of the eye, and spasmodic gigglings. Meanwhile, as Brian Salwey talked to her charming low-voiced sister, he felt figuratively swept off his feet; it was impossible to realise that this girl was the daughter of the sub-manager and "Mother Chan."; that her great-grandmother had been a Temple girl from the West coast, who had sung and danced before the gods. His brain actually reeled as he endeavoured to assimilate this fact, with the beautiful face, the well-cut, firm lips, that were imparting her impressions of the recent Passion play at Oberammergau. Never for a moment did she appear to recall that terrible scene by the river, and her own pitiful cry, "Let me die! Oh, let me die!" At present she was laughing at some epitaphs that Mrs. Lepell had unearthed from an American magazine, little dreaming how near she had been to earning an epitaph herself! "I must say I like the unquestioning conviction of this one from Wyoming county," said Mrs. Lepell, and she read aloud: "She was in health at 11.30 a.m. And left for heaven at 2.30 p.m." Brian leant nearer, and looked over his aunt's shoulder, and said: "Yes, but I think this one from Maine would be hard to beat as a monument of punctuation. 'John Philips Accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother.' or this is most excellent: 'Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson and Ruth his wife, Their warfare is accomplished.' "Now let us hand the book to Miss Chandos that she may make her selection." As he spoke he took it from Mrs. Lepell, and held it to Verona. After a slight pause, she said: "I really think mine is the best of all." "Then I challenge you to let us hear it," said Salwey. In a low steady voice she at once began to read aloud: "'Our life is but a winter's day, Some breakfast and away, Others to dinner stay--and are well fed, The oldest sups and goes to bed. Large is the debt who lingers out the day, Who goes the soonest--has the least to pay.'" "So you would go soon?" looking at the girl interrogatively. "Yes, after breakfast, so to speak," she responded. "And I would remain till after supper--when the band had dispersed, and the lights were put out." "I, too, should like to remain till the Last Post," said Mrs. Lepell. Pussy listened to this conversation with a face of blank bewilderment. What did they mean by talking of breakfast, and supper, in this odd fashion? "By-the-way, Verona," said Mrs. Lepell, "to change to another subject, have you ever had any trace of your jewels?" "No, never." "Pray, Brian," turning to her nephew, "what are you about? I repeat the common cry, 'Where are the police?'"