"It might--" she began. The lawyer paused in his impatient walk and stared at her. "It might expedite matters," she continued, "if you were to tell me some of your plans. For instance, I shall quite understand if you wish me to leave here and take a house in London. It is true the lease of this house won't be up for two years, but I have no doubt my landlord would be open to a consideration." "Eh? What is it you were going to say? I don't want you to leave your house," blurted out Mr Timmins. "I have nothing whatever to do with your future, Mrs Fortescue. You have been kind to my young friends in the past, but I think I have--er--er--fully repaid you. And here they come--that is all right. Now, my dear madam, if you would leave the young ladies with me--no tea, thank you; I haven't time for any--I may be able to get my business through in three-quarters of an hour. It is only just half-past three. If I leave here at a quarter-past four, I may catch the express back to town. Would you be so very kind as to order your servant to have a cab at the door for me at a quarter-past four--yes, in three-quarters of an hour I can say all that need be said. No tea, I beg of you." He was really very cross; it was the girls' doing. Mrs Fortescue felt thoroughly annoyed. She went into the hall to meet Brenda and Florence. "Mr Timmins has been here for nearly twenty minutes. His train was in sharp at three. He is very much annoyed at your both being out. Go to him at once, girls--at once." "Oh, of course we will," said Florence. "Who would have supposed that his train would have been punctual to-day! Come, Brenda, come." They went, just as they were, into the pretty little precise drawing-room, where a fire was burning cheerily in the grate, and the room was looking spick and span, everything dusted and in perfect order, and some pretty vases full of fresh flowers adding a picturesqueness to the scene. It was quite a dear little drawing-room, and when the two girls--Florence with that rich colour which so specially characterised her, and Brenda a little paler but very sweet-looking--entered the room, the picture was complete. The old lawyer lost his sense of irritation. He came forward with both hands outstretched. "My dear children," he said; "my poor children. Sit down; sit down." They were surprised at his address, and Florence began to apologise for being late; but Brenda made no remark, only her face turned pale. "I may as well out with it at once," said Mr Timmins. "It was never my wish that it should have been kept from you all these years, but I only obeyed your parent's special instructions. You have left school--" "Oh yes," said Florence; "and I am glad. What are we to do in the future, Daddy Timmins?" She often called him by that name. He took her soft young hand and stroked it. There was a husky note in his voice. He found it difficult to speak. After a minute or two, he said abruptly--