"They announced themselves as 'Gordon Maclean's cousins,' and of course they were civilly received; but the footman got orders that if they called again his mistress was not at home. I had a pretty good inkling that Maclean was providing them with funds, so I thought it only right to tip him a wink. He took it amazingly well--he was a good fellow!--but I believe he gave his fair cousins pretty plainly to understand that, though he was willing to share his money, his friends were his own till he chose to introduce them. I never heard of their playing that little game again, for, after all, the funds were of even more importance than the high connections. But they never forgave your father. They always thought that he might have pulled them up the ladder with him--ha, ha, ha! a pretty fair weight they would have been!" Mona did not laugh. Nothing could make the least difference now, but she did wish she had heard this story before. "You did not know old Simpy in your father's time?" Mona hesitated. She was half inclined to resent the insulting diminutive, but what was the use? The Colonel took liberties with every one, and perhaps he could tell her more. "No," she said. "I vaguely knew that I had a cousin, but I never thought much about it till she wrote to me a few years ago." "The deuce she did! To borrow money, I'll be bound. That nephew of hers was a regular sink for money, till he and his mother died. But Simpy should be quite a millionaire now. She has the income your father settled on her. and a little money besides--let alone the shop! She is not sponging on you now, I hope?" "Oh no," said Mona warmly. "On the contrary, I am staying here as her guest." He burst out laughing again. "Rather you than me!" he said. "But well you may; it is all your father's money, first or last." Mona rose to go. "I am glad you have told me all this," she said, "though it is rather depressing." "Depressing? Hoot, havers! It will teach you how to treat Rachel Simpson for the future. I have a likeness of your father and mother here. Would you like to see it?" "Very much indeed. It may be one I have never seen." He took up a shabby old album, and turned his back while he found the place; but a page must have slipped over by accident in his shaky old hands, for when Mona looked she beheld only a vision of long white legs and flying gauzy petticoats. "Damnation!" shouted the old man, and snatching the book away, he hastily corrected his mistake. It was all right this time. No living faces were so familiar to Mona as were those of the earnest, capable man, and the beautiful, queenly woman in the photograph. "I have never seen this before," she said. "It is very good." "I'll leave it to you in my will, eh? It will be worth as much as most of my legacies." "If everything you leave is as much valued as that will be, your legatees will have much to be grateful for."