But, "Isn't that exactly like her?" Mr. Woods was demanding of his soul. "She thinks she has been unfair to me--to me, whom she doesn't care a button for, mind you. So she hands over a fortune to make up for it, simply because that's the first means that comes to hand! Now, isn't that perfectly unreasonable, and fantastic, and magnificent, and incredible?--in short, isn't that Peggy all over? Why, God bless her, her heart's bigger than a barn-door! Oh, it's no wonder that fellow Kennaston was grinning just now when he sent me to her! He can afford to grin." Aloud, he stated, "You're an angel, Peggy that's what you are. I've always suspected it, and I'm glad to know it now for a fact. But in this prosaic world not even angels are allowed to burn up wills for recreation. Why, bless my soul, child, you--why, there's no telling what trouble you might have gotten into!" Miss Hugonin pouted. "You needn't be such a grandfather," she suggested, helpfully. "But it's a serious business," he insisted. At this point Billy began to object to her pouting as distracting one's mind from the subject under discussion. "It--why, it's----" "It's what?" she pouted, even more rebelliously. "Crimson," said Mr. Woods, considering--"oh, the very deepest, duskiest crimson such as you can't get in tubes. It's a colour was never mixed on any palette. It's--eh? Oh, I beg your pardon." "I think you ought to," said Margaret, primly. Nevertheless, she had brightened considerably. "Of course," Mr. Woods continued with a fine colour, "I can't take the money. That's absurd." "Is it?" she queried, idly. "Now, I wonder how you're going to help yourself?" "Simplest thing in the world," he assured her. "You see this match, don't you, Peggy? Well, now you're going to give me that paper I see in that bag-thing at your waist, and I'm going to burn it till it's all nice, soft, feathery ashes that can't ever be probated. And then the first will, which is practically the same as the last, will be allowed to stand, and I'll tell your father all about the affair, because he ought to know, and you'll have to settle with those colleges. And in that way," Mr. Woods submitted, "Uncle Fred's last wishes will be carried out just as he expressed them, and there needn't be any trouble--none at all. So give me the will, Peggy?" It is curious what a trivial matter love makes of felony. Margaret's heart sank. However, "Yes?" said she, encouragingly; "and what do you intend doing afterward?--" "I--I shall probably live abroad," said Billy. "Cheaper, you know." [Illustration: "Miss Hugonin pouted. 'You needn't be such a grandfather,' she suggested, helpfully"] And here (he thought) was an excellent, an undreamed-of opportunity to inform her of his engagement. He had much better tell her now and have done. Mr. Woods opened his mouth and looked at Margaret, and closed it. Again she was pouting in a fashion that distracted one's mind.