Agnes hastened to the elder gentleman at once, and drew him aside to make her inquiries. Mr Foggo smiled, and took a pinch of snuff. “All quite true,” said Mr Foggo; “he came to me yesterday with a paper in his hand--a long story about next of kin wanted somewhere, and of two children belonging to some poor widow woman, who had been lost sight of a long time ago, one of whom was named Louis. That’s the story; it’s a mare’s nest, Agnes, if you know what that is; but I thought it might divert the boy; so instead of opposing, I furnished him for his journey, and let him go without delay. No reason why the lad should not do his endeavour for his own hand. It’s good for him, though it’s sure to be a failure. He has told you perfectly true.” “And where has he gone?” asked Agnes anxiously. “It’s in one of the midland counties--somewhere beyond Birmingham--at this moment I do not remember the place,” said Mr Foggo; “but I took a note of it, and you’ll hear from him to-morrow. We’ve been hearing news ourselves, Agnes. Did you tell her, Willsie, what fortune has come to you and me?” “No,” said Miss Willsie. She was turning her back upon her dutiful nephew, and frowning darkly upon the teapot. The American had no chance with his offended aunt. “A far-away cousin of ours,” said Mr Foggo, who was very bland, and in a gracious humour, “has taken it into his head to die; and a very bonny place indeed, in the north country--a cosy little estate and a good house--comes to me.” “I am very glad,” said Agnes, brightening in sympathy; “that is good news for everybody. Oh, Miss Willsie, how pleased Mr Foggo must be!” Miss Willsie did not say a word--Mr Foggo smiled. “Then you think a cosy estate a good thing, Agnes?” said the old gentleman. “I am rather afraid, though you write books, you are not poetical; for that is not the view of the subject taken by my nephew here.” “I despise wealth,” said Mr Endicott. “An estate, sir, is so much dirty soil. The mind is the true riches; a spark of genius is worth all the inheritances in the world!” “And that’s just so much the better for you, Foggie, my man,” cried Miss Willsie suddenly; “seeing the inheritances of this world are very little like to come to your share. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a lee!”