“It may be delightful for you, Bessie,” said Augusta, rather tartly, “but I call it disgusting. It is all very well to be tattooed upon a desert island—not that that was very nice, I can tell you; but it is quite another thing to have to show the results in a London drawing-room. Of course, Mr. Meeson will want to see this will, whatever it may be worth; and I should like to ask you, Bessie, how I am to show it to him? It is on my neck.” “I have not observed,” said Lady Holmhurst, drily, “that ladies, as a rule, have an insuperable objection to showing their necks. If you have any doubt on the point, I recommend you to get an invitation to a London ball. All you will have to do will be to wear a low dress. The fact of being tattooed does not make it any more improper for you to show your shoulders, than it would be if they were not tattooed.” “I have never worn a low dress,” said Augusta, “and I do not want to show my shoulders.” “Ah, well,” said Lady Holmhurst, darkly; “I daresay that that feeling will soon wear off. But, of course, if you won’t, you won’t; and, under those circumstances, you had better say nothing about the will—though,” she added learnedly, “of course that would be compounding a felony.” “Would it? I don’t quite see where the felony comes in.” “Well, of course, it is this way: you steal the will—that’s felony; and if you don’t show it to him, I suppose you compound it; it is a double offence—compound felony.” “Nonsense!” answered Augusta to this exposition of the law, which was, it will be admitted, almost as lucid and convincing as that of an average Q.C. “How can I steal my own shoulders? It is impossible.” “Oh, no; not at all. You don’t know what funny things you can do. I once had a cousin whom I coached for his examination for the Bar, and I learnt a great deal about it then. Poor fellow! he was plucked eight times.” “I am sure I don’t wonder at it,” said Augusta, rudely. “Well, I suppose I must put on this low dress; but it is horrid—perfectly horrid! You will have to lend me one, that is all.” “My dear,” answered Lady Holmhurst, with a glance at her widow’s weeds. “I have no low dresses: though, perhaps, I can find some among the things I put away before we sailed,” and her eyes filled with tears.