The men stood up again as she came in with an air of respect which seemed to her exaggerated and absurd--old Mr. Turny, who had known her from a child and had allowed her to open the door for him and run errands for him many a day, and the solicitor, who in his infrequent visits had never paid any attention to her at all. They stood on each side letting her pass as if into some prison of which they were going to defend the doors. Dr. Burnet, who was there too, closely buttoned and looking very grave, gave her a seat; and then she saw her Uncle Robert Tredgold sunk down in a chair, with Mr. Sturgeon’s bag in his arms, staring about him with lack-lustre eyes. She gave him a little nod and encouraging glance. How small a matter it would be to provide for that unfortunate so that he should never need to carry Mr. Sturgeon’s bag again! She sat down and looked round upon them with for the first time a sort of personal satisfaction in the thought that she was so wholly independent of them and all that it was in their power to do--the mistress of her own house, not obliged to think of anyone’s pleasure but her own. It was on her lips to say something hospitable, kind, such as became the mistress of the house; she refrained only from the recollection that, after all, it was her father’s funeral day. “Miss Tredgold,” said the solicitor, “we have now, I am sorry to say, a very painful duty to perform.” Katherine looked at him without the faintest notion of his meaning, encouraging him to proceed with a faint smile. “I have gone through your late lamented father’s papers most carefully. As you yourself said yesterday, I have possessed his confidence for many years, and all his business matters have gone through my hands. I supposed that as I had not been consulted about any change in his will, he must have employed a local solicitor. That, however, does not seem to have been the case, and I am sorry to inform you, Miss Tredgold, that the only will that can be found is that of eighteen hundred and seventy-one.” “Yes?” said Katherine indifferently interrogative, as something seemed to be expected of her. “Yes--the will of eighteen hundred and seventy-one--nearly eight years ago--drawn out when your sister was in full possession of her empire over your late father, Miss Tredgold.” “Yes,” said Katherine, but this time without any interrogation. She had a vague recollection of that will, of Mr. Sturgeon’s visit to the house, and the far-off sound of stormy interviews between her father and his solicitor, of which the girls in their careless fashion, and especially Stella, had made a joke. “You probably don’t take in the full significance of what I say.” “No,” said Katherine with a smile, “I don’t think that I do.”