"Ah,"--the lawyer bowed gravely. "Perhaps you have not been told of the surprising turn events have taken. It is a matter which requires secrecy until identities are established and evil-doers circumvented. Let me congratulate you, Mrs. Wilbur, on a remarkably fine and intelligent daughter. She is a credit to your bringing-up. Not many mothers can boast of having instilled such prudence." The lady leaned back in her corner, not certain whether to accept this disarming, or to insist immediately upon her rights. She decided to compromise and wait until they reached the hotel. "My daughter tells you she can wait in Boston as long as is necessary," she said at last, "and her mother will have to understand the necessity." "Certainly, Mrs. Wilbur," responded the lawyer. "We have found ourselves in a totally unexpected situation. Mr. Herbert Loring destroyed his will and died before he could make another." Mrs. Wilbur exclaimed. Mr. Loring was known to be wealthy and she was interested in fortunes. Her brain began working actively on the probabilities of the heirs. "The next strange event is that your young daughter has probably found the heir." Mrs. Wilbur raised her lorgnette and regarded Diana, drooping opposite, as if she were a new discovery. "I wish to understand," she said with dignity. "It seems that Mr. Loring's disobedient daughter left a son whose existence has been unsuspected unless Mr. Loring himself knew of it, which he never betrayed. Your daughter and Mrs. Lowell have found the boy." "Not I," protested Diana. "Mrs. Lowell, in her sweet unselfishness, deserves all the credit. I should have paid no attention to him, but I--it was through your letter, Mamma, that I found the boy's grandfather." "We all had a hand in it, then, it seems," said Mrs. Wilbur. "The boy's uncle has possession of him. His father and mother are both dead, and, according to these ladies, the uncle can qualify as the world's meanest man. So we proceed carefully until the proofs which he is supposed to have are in hand. You, Mrs. Wilbur, will aid us in silence on the subject until the right time for speaking." "How old is he, Diana?" burst forth the lady. "What does he look like? Is he clever and worthy of such a heritage?" "He is a poor, shabby, ill-treated boy about fourteen years old. He has never had a chance, but I scarcely know him. Mrs. Lowell is the one who discovered him and cared for him." Mrs. Wilbur glanced at Mrs. Lowell, but she could not bring herself to ask her a question. She felt a vague jealousy and sense of injury at finding this stranger in her child's confidence and aiding and abetting her in so much independence of action. As soon as possible after the reception of Mrs. Wilbur's enlightening letter at the island, Mrs. Lowell had wired her husband that the search was ended before it had begun, and he returned Diana's check with congratulations.