"It's brains, Jim, brains," I said for his solace. "Now here were you an' me cudgelling our heads how to get on the scent of poor Mr. Garside's relations, and even your mother could suggest nothing better than setting the bell-man to work; and Mr. Roberts yonder had it all planned out in the twinkling of an eye. You'll see he'll run them to earth before you can say 'Jack Robinson.'" I proved a true prophet. A few days after our visit to Manchester a messenger came from Wrigley Mill to Mitchell Mill to say that I was wanted at once at Holly Grove. I wasn't to stop to fettle myself up--I was to go as I was. Wondering not a little what could have chanced to cause this urgent summons, and conjuring up in my mind a thousand forebodings of I knew not what disaster, I made haste to Holly Grove. At the end of the drive there stood as fine an equipage as ever drove through Diggle, a carriage with a pair of mettlesome bays with silver-mounted harness tossing their glossy manes and pawing the ground impatiently. A coachman who sat proudly on the box and a groom who idled by the horses' heads eyed me with much condescension as I hurried past them to the house. In the front room I found Mrs. Wrigley and Miriam and a strange lady and gentleman, both, as even I could tell at a glance, richly dressed, with an air of distinction, and both far advanced in years. Mrs. Wrigley motioned me to a seat, which I took, hardly knowing whether I stood on my head or my heels, and my heart sinking into my boots, for I felt instinctively that these strangers boded me no good. I glanced at Miriam, who remained standing, very pale and tremulous, twisting a tiny handkerchief nervously in her hands. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Buckley, from Mossley," said Mrs. Wrigley, by way of introduction. "They have been in communication with Mr. Roberts, the attorney you very wisely and properly consulted. You will do me the justice, Abel, to remember that I urged upon you to make search for Miriam's kith and kin. I am thankful I did so, and that you had the good sense to act on my advice. Mrs. Buckley is the sister of the late Mrs. Garside, Miriam's grandmother, if all your poor friend told you is true." "And that you may be sure it is," I was just able to say. "Perhaps, madam, you will permit me," interrupted the old gentleman, with a courtly bow to Mrs. Wrigley. "This young gentleman," turning to me, "is, I understand, Mr. Abel Holmes, and there have been some foolish love-passages between him and our fair young friend. Well, well, it was excusable enough, perhaps, as things were. And it seems pretty certain that her father, the recluse you tended in his dying hours, was indeed the son of my good wife's elder sister. Of course, my lawyers will have to go into the matter thoroughly, but I don't think there can be much question of the relationship. Everything tallies. And my dear wife declares that Miriam is strangely like her grandmother as a young women. Eh, dear?"