"I'm very sorry, Mr. Simpson," said Mildred, in reply to his entreaties that she would consent to be the "Co.," "I'm very sorry, but it can never be." "There's some other fellow in the case; I _will_ know who. It's that horrid cousin of yours," said the man of money with his innate vulgarity, for he could not understand any girl refusing his gold. "Mr. Simpson, you have no right to speak to me like that; and seeing that my cousin picked me up when I fell, while you were too much alarmed for your own safety, _I_ have no reason to consider him horrid," was Mildred's cutting reply, after which she refused to speak till they arrived at the Hall. Whether it was the rebuff that he had received, or joy at finding himself safe, I cannot say, but at dinner Simpson drank more than was his custom, and was proportionately talkative and bombastic in consequence, and towards the end he entertained the company with a description of how he got over the most enormous places. "You--ah--see, my horse" (he called it "'orse"' now that the wine was in) "refused that stile where Miss Vivian fell, and Mr. Ward told me it was no use riding him at the same thing twice, so I had to look out--ah--for another place. I saw there was nothing for it but the fence at the side" (it was an overgrown blackthorn, with a six-feet post and rails run through the middle), "and--ah--by Jove! my horse cleared it without touching a twig--ah." "My word, Simpson, that was a jump--almost as big as the cow took when it vaulted over the moon," said Tom. "Fact, sir, 'shure you," replied he of the City, when the butler came up behind his chair and in an audible voice said: "I beg pardon, sir, but there's a man downstairs who says you told him to call--says you promised him a sovereign for catching your horse when you turned it over the stile." It may have been rude, but the guilty look of Simpson and the utter ludicrousness of the whole affair was too much, and everybody, including the Colonel, fairly shrieked with laughter, during which Mr. Simpson bowed himself out to see about this "tale of the sovereign," as he called it. Later on the butler appeared a second time, bearing in his hand a yellow envelope, which he handed to Jack. Opening it carelessly he read: "As agents to John Sandford, acquaint you of his death. Yourself left sole heir. Telegraph instructions. Money and securities, eighty thousand. Three large tea estates, besides other property. Letter follows.--Kirkman and Co., Calcutta." I am afraid Jack's face did not express great sorrow for his deceased uncle. Indeed, as he glanced across at Milly, a great look of joy came into his eyes, and after dinner he found an opportunity to ask her a question, receiving a very different answer to that vouchsafed to Mr. Simpson.