When with Godfrey Pavely, Oliver Tropenell always called the other man by his Christian name, but behind his back he always spoke of him as "Pavely." As his mother remained silent, he went on, a little hurriedly: "The powers vested in the trustee are very wide, and it seems that money which was later added to the trust--a matter of seventeen thousand pounds or so--is invested in some queer form of security." They both smiled--he a little drily, she with a kind of good-humoured contempt. "He's cautious and successful--in spite of that odd, gambling propensity," she spoke a little defensively. Then, "I suppose you've consented to act?" She waited anxiously for his answer; and at last it came, uttered in a tone of elaborate unconcern: "I said I'd think it over. But I think I'll take it on, mother. Pavely made rather a personal favour of it--after all, there's some kind of relationship." "Yes," agreed Mrs. Tropenell, "yes, there is certainly a connection, hardly a relationship, between ourselves and Laura." Her son sat down. He began poking about an invisible stone, lying in among the grass, with his stick. "You cared for Laura's mother as if she had been your sister--didn't you, mother? And yet I can't imagine you with a great woman friend, I mean, of course, a friend of your own age." She turned and looked at him. "Ah, my dear,--those are the friends that count!" and she nearly added, "Don't _you_ find it so?" But, instead, she went on quickly, "Yes, I loved Laura's mother dearly, dearly--and it was for her sake that I asked you to be good to her son, to Gillie." "Laura's extraordinarily fond of Gillie----" There always came a curious change over Oliver Tropenell's voice when he uttered the name "Laura." It became as it were softer, infused with feeling--or so his mother thought. She waited a moment; then answered slowly, "Women generally are fond of their only brothers." "Oh, but it's more than that!" As she remained silent, he went on musingly: "And Gillie, in his queer way, is very fond of Laura--though I don't believe he writes to her once in three months!" "I suppose Gillie still hates Godfrey?" she said hesitatingly. "Godfrey behaved so--so--well, not so much badly perhaps, as meanly and even stupidly--about that unfortunate affair." It was almost as if Mrs. Tropenell were speaking to herself. Her son turned and looked at her squarely. "Yes! Gillie still hates Pavely. And yet, mother, since I came home this time I've wondered sometimes if Pavely was so very unreasonable about it after all. You see, Gillie must have been about the most troublesome and--well, the most dangerous brother-in-law an unlucky country banker could well have had!" "And but for you he'd be so still," she said quietly. "From something Godfrey said the other day I gather that he's really grateful to you, Oliver?"