"Pounds, then. We ran across Mr. Anthony out in France." "Picked him out of a ditch near Arras with a bullet through his foot," Jane contributed. "And after that got most awfully friendly and kept knocking up against each other." Mrs. Barraclough shook her head. "It must have been very painful for him with a bullet through his foot." "When he heard we'd gone broke he said--just like him--'my mother's a sport, go and look after her.'" "So I'm a sport," said Mrs. Barraclough with a smile. "But even so, why should I want looking after?" "That's what puzzles me," said Isabel. Jane and Flora exchanged glances. "I don't know whether we ought to," said Jane. "He's my fiance," said Isabel, "and you're jolly well not going to keep me in the dark." "And quite incidentally," Mrs. Barraclough remarked, "he's my son." "Oh, very well," said Flora. "It seems he was all over some great big, get rich quick scheme--and there was a chance anyone connected with him might be got at." "Got at!" Mrs. Barraclough's dark eyes opened a little wider. "Um! A tough crowd was up against him you see." "I see." The old lady nodded gravely but there was a sparkle of excitement in her expression. "So you and Jane and Cynthia and Agnes are here to protect me against the assaults of--of a 'tough crowd.'" "We're here if we're wanted," said Jane robustly. "And somehow," said Flora, "I think we shall be wanted." Mrs. Barraclough's hands went out and she drew the two girls a little closer. "My dears," she said, "I don't know why but lately I've had a pringly sort of feeling--as if something were going to happen. It's a sense of adventure perhaps. I used to be a very wild girl myself." "But you mustn't worry," said Isabel. "It's sure to turn out all right, you know." "I'm not worrying. I'm only hoping that if anything does happen I shall be in it." "But look here," exclaimed Flora, "that's the very thing he wants to prevent." "Yes, yes, but I know my Anthony, bless him. It would be so beautiful to help him again after all these years." She smiled retrospectively. "When he was a little boy he was always coming into conflict with his father. Poor Mr. Barraclough, he was a very austere man and Anthony's scrapes inspired from him the severest judgments. Tony had a little signal--he was much too proud to speak--he used to take out his pocket handkerchief and quite carelessly tie a knot in the centre. Whenever he did that I used to come to his aid. Dear Tony, I was always the one to rescue him from difficulty." "He gets his pluck from you," said Flora. "His father was a brave man too, until he had a little misfortune with a mule which rather upset his balance." "Generally does," Isabel laughed.