"Oh! I don't know," interrupted the lawyer, with his mouth full. "You girls are always bothering for something of the sort. Get it up if you like, only don't expect me to go." "The Arkells will join us, pa; Bab has asked them." "Of course," said the lawyer with a loud laugh. "She'd not fail to ask _them_. How was Mr. Travice, Bab?" "I shan't tell you, pa," answered Miss Bab, tossing her head in demonstrative indignation, though her whole face beamed with a gratified smile. "The idea! How should I know anything about Mr. Travice Arkell!" "A good-looking young fellow," said the lawyer, significantly. "Perhaps others may be finding him so as well as you, Bab." "Pa, then, you are a stupid! And I want to know who it is that's coming to dinner to-day?" "Coming to dinner to-day, Bab? Nobody that I know of." "You said last night you had invited somebody, but you went to sleep when I asked who." "Oh! I remember. I met him yesterday, and he said he was going to call to-day. I told him to come in and dine, if he liked. It's Ben Carr." "Oh!" said Miss Bab, with a depreciating sniff. "Only Ben Carr!" "He's over here for a few days, stopping with Mrs. Lewis. He wants to be off to Australia or some place, but the squire turns crusty about advancing the funds. Ben and he came to an explosion over it, and Ben has made himself scarce at home in consequence. What's the time, Bab?" Barbara Fauntleroy glanced over her father's head at the French clock behind him. "It's twenty-five minutes after nine, pa." "Eh!" cried the lawyer, starting up. "Why, what a time I have been at breakfast! You girls should not keep me with your chatter." He gathered up his letters, which lay in a stack beside him, and hastened into his office. The head clerk, Kenneth, was in the outer room, with one of the other clerks, a young man named Omer. Mr. Fauntleroy went in to ask a question. "Have those deeds come in yet from the engrosser's, Kenneth?" "No, sir." "Not come! Why they promised them for nine o'clock this morning, and now it's half-past. Go for them yourself, Kenneth, at once, and give them a word of a sort. It's not the first time by many that they've been behindhand." Mr. Kenneth took his hat and went out; and his master shut himself in his private room and began to open his letters. Sometimes he opened his letters at breakfast time, at others he carried them, as now, into the office. Amidst these letters was the envelope despatched by Mrs. Carr, containing the important letter found in the desk. To describe Mr. Fauntleroy's astonishment when he read it, would be beyond mortal pen. To think that they should have been looking half over the world for this marriage record, when it was lying quietly under their very nose! "By George!" exclaimed Mr. Fauntleroy. "A clever trick, though, of Robert Carr's--if he _did_ so marry her. The secret was well kept. He would be sure we should suspect any place rather than Westerbury." "Omer!" he called out aloud.