She shook her head wisely, as if reflecting over the numerous cases of rewarded virtue which had come under her notice, and the action made two jet ornaments in her cap wobble, in a ludicrous manner, from side to side. "That may be," admitted the lady of the house, "though I wish I felt as sure about it as you do." "But then," continued Mrs. Ingham-Baker, in a low and feeling tone, "you always were the soul of generosity." The "soul of generosity" gave an exceedingly wise little smile--almost as if she knew better--and looked up sharply towards the door. At the same moment the butler appeared. "Mr. Pawson, ma'am," he said. The little nod with which this information was received seemed to indicate that Mr. Pawson had been expected. Beneath her black curls Mrs. Ingham-Baker's beady eyes were very much on the alert. "In the library, James," said Mrs. Harrington--and the two jet ornaments bending over the silken needlework gave a little throb of disappointment. "Mr. Pawson," announced the lady of the house, "is the legal light who casts a shadow of obscurity over my affairs." And with that she left the room. As soon as the door was closed Mrs. Ingham-Baker was on her feet. She crossed the room to where her hostess's key-basket and other belongings stood upon a table near the window. She stood looking eagerly at these without touching them. She even stooped down to examine the address of an envelope. "Mr. Pawson!" she said, in a breathless whisper. "Mr. Pawson--what does that mean? Can she be going to alter her--no! But--yes, it may be! Perhaps Susan knows." Mrs. Ingham-Baker then rang the bell twice, and resumed her seat. Presently an aged servant came into the room. It was easy to see at a glance that she was a very old woman, but the years seemed to weigh less on her mind than on her body. "Yes," she said composedly. "Oh--eh, Susan," began Mrs. Ingham-Baker almost cringingly. "I rang because I wanted to know if a parcel has come for me--a parcel of floss-silk--from that shop in Buckingham Palace Road, you know." "If it had come," replied Susan, with withering composure, "it would have been sent up to you." "Yes, yes, of course I know that, Susan. But I thought that perhaps it might have been insufficiently addressed or something--that you or Mary might have thought that it was for Mrs. Harrington." "She don't use floss silks," replied the imperturbable Susan. "I was just going to ask her about it, when she was called away by some one. I think she said that it was her lawyer." "Yes, Mr. Pawson." Susan's manner implied--very subtly and gently--that her place in this pleasant house was more assured than that of Mrs. Ingham-Baker, and perhaps that stout diplomatist awoke to this implication, for she pulled herself up with considerable dignity.