'Why, then,' said Clements, 'comes this letter--this very morning--from a lawyer, to say as this bad egg of a son wasn't drowned at all: he was in foreign parts, and only now heard of his father's decease, and tends without delay to claim the property, which all comes to him, the deceased have died insensate--that means without a will.' 'I say, Clements,' Molly sung out, 'you must have read the letter. Did aunt show it to you?' There was a dead silence; the kitchenmaid giggled. Someone whispered inside the room. Then the housekeeper's voice called softly, 'Come in here a minute, miss,' and the window was sharply shut. Molly emptied the peascods out of her pinafore and went in. Directly she was inside the door Clements caught her by the arm and shook her. 'You nasty mean, prying little cat!' she said; 'and me getting you jelly and custard, and I don't know what all.' 'I'm not,' said Molly. 'Don't, Clements; you hurt.' 'You deserve me to,' was the reply. 'Doesn't she, Mrs. Williams?' 'Don't you know it's wrong to listen, miss?' asked Mrs. Williams. 'I didn't listen,' said Molly indignantly. 'You were simply shouting. No one could help hearing. Me and Jane would have had to put our fingers in our ears _not_ to hear.' 'I didn't think it of you,' said Clements, beginning to sniff. 'I don't know what you're making all this fuss about,' said Molly; 'I'm not a sneak.' 'Have a piece of cake, miss,' said Mrs. Williams, 'and give me your word it shan't go any further.' 'I don't want your cake; you'd better give it to Clements. It's she that tells things--not me.' Molly began to cry. 'There, I declare, miss, I'm sorry I shook you, but I was that put out. There! I ask your pardon; I can't do more. You wouldn't get poor Clements into trouble, I'm sure.' 'Of course I wouldn't; you might have known that.' Well, peace was restored; but Molly wouldn't have any cake. That evening Jane wore a new silver brooch, shaped like a horseshoe, with an arrow through it. It was after tea, when Uncle Toodlethwaite was gone, that Molly, creeping quietly out to see the pigs fed, came upon her aunt at the end of the hollyhock walk. Her aunt was sitting on the rustic seat that the crimson rambler rose makes an arbour over. Her handkerchief was held to her face with both hands, and her thin shoulders were shaking with sobs. And at once Molly forgot how disagreeable Aunt Maria had always been, and how she hated her. She ran to her aunt and threw her arms round her neck. Aunt Maria jumped in her seat, but she let the arms stay where they were, though they made it quite difficult for her to use her handkerchief. 'Don't cry, dear ducky _darling_ Aunt Maria,' said Molly--'oh, don't! What _is_ the matter?' 'Nothing you would understand,' said Aunt Maria gruffly; 'run away and play, there's a good child.' 'But I don't want to play while you're crying. I'm sure I could understand, dear little auntie.' Molly embraced the tall, gaunt figure of the aunt.