'The difference in station?' I said; 'the difference, still greater, in this world's goods? Yes, I know. I admit all that. So I declined his offer. I did not wish to ruin his prospects.' The Urbane Old Gentleman eyed me with a sudden tenderness in his glance. 'Young men are lucky,' he said, slowly, after a short pause; '--and-- Higginson is an idiot. I say it deliberately--an idiot! How could one dream of trusting the judgment of a flunkey about a lady? My dear, excuse the familiarity from one who may consider himself in a certain sense a contingent uncle--suppose we amend the last clause by the omission of the word _not_. It strikes me as superfluous. "Provided always the said Harold Ashurst Tillington consents to marry"-- I think that sounds better!' He looked at me with such fatherly regard that it pricked my heart ever to have poked fun at his Interpretation of Prophecy on Stock Exchange principles. I think I flushed crimson. 'No, no,' I answered, firmly. 'That will not do either, please. That's worse than the other way. You must not put it, Mr. Ashurst. I could not consent to be willed away to anybody.' He leant forward, with real earnestness. 'My dear,' he said, 'that's not the point. Pardon my reminding you that you are here in your capacity as my amanuensis. I am drawing up my will, and if you will allow me to say so, I cannot admit that anyone has a claim to influence me in the disposition of my Property.' '_Please!_' I cried, pleadingly. He looked at me and paused. 'Well,' he went on at last, after a long interval; 'since _you_ insist upon it, I will leave the bequest to stand without condition.' 'Thank you,' I murmured, bending low over my machine.' 'If I did as I like, though,' he went on, 'I should say, Unless he marries Miss Lois Cayley (who is a deal too good for him) the estate shall revert to Kynaston's eldest son, a confounded jackass. I do not usually indulge in intemperate language; but I desire to assure you, with the utmost calmness, that Kynaston's eldest son, Lord Southminster, is a con-founded jackass.' I rose and took his hand in my own spontaneously. 'Mr. Ashurst,' I said, 'you may interpret prophecy as long as ever you like, but you are a dear kind old gentleman. I am truly grateful to you for your good opinion. 'And you will marry Harold?' 'Never,' I answered; 'while he is rich. I have said as much to him.' 'That's hard,' he went on, slowly. 'For ... I should like to be your uncle.' I trembled all over. Elsie saved the situation by bursting in abruptly. I will only add that when Mr. Ashurst left, I copied the will out neatly, without erasures. The rough original I threw (somewhat carelessly) into the waste-paper basket. That afternoon, somebody called to fetch the fair copy for Mr. Ashurst. I went out into the front office to see him. To my surprise, it was Higginson--in his guise as courier. [Illustration: WHAT, YOU HERE! HE CRIED.]