“What is it?” screamed Mrs. Tidger, wrought beyond all endurance. Her husband turned and regarded her with much severity, but Mrs. Tidger’s gaze was the stronger, and after a vain attempt to meet it, he handed her the letter. Mrs. Tidger read it through hastily, and then snatching the baby from her lap, held it out with both arms to her husband, and jumping up, kissed her sister heartily, patting her on the back in her excitement until she coughed with the pain of it. “You don’t think it’s a take-in, Polly?” she inquired. “Take-in?” said her sister; “of course it ain’t. Lawyers don’t play jokes; their time’s too valuable. No, you’re an heiress all right, Ann, and I wish you joy. I couldn’t be more pleased if it was myself.” She kissed her again, and going to pat her back once more, discovered that she had sunk down sufficiently low in her chair to obtain the protection of its back. “Two thousand pounds,” said Mrs. Pullen, in an awestruck voice. “Ten hundered pounds twice over,” said the carpenter, mouthing it slowly; “twenty hundered pounds.” He got up from the table, and instinctively realizing that he could not do full justice to his feelings with the baby in his arms, laid it on the teatray in a puddle of cold tea and stood looking hard at the heiress. “I was housekeeper to her eleven years ago,” said Mrs. Pullen. “I wonder what she left it to me for?” “Didn’t know what to do with it, I should think,” said the carpenter, still staring openmouthed. “Tidger, I’m ashamed of you,” said his wife, snatching her infant to her bosom. “I expect you was very good to her, Ann.” “I never ’ad no luck,” said the impenitent carpenter. “Nobody ever left me no money. Nobody ever left me so much as a fi-pun note.” He stared round disdainfully at his poor belongings, and drawing on his coat, took his bag from a corner, and hoisting it on his shoulder, started to his work. He scattered the news as he went, and it ran up and down the little main street of Thatcham, and thence to the outlying lanes and cottages. Within a couple of hours it was common property, and the fortunate legatee was presented with a congratulatory address every time she ventured near the door. It is an old adage that money makes friends; the carpenter was surprised to find that the mere fact of his having a moneyed relation had the same effect, and that men to whom he had hitherto shown a certain amount of respect due to their position now sought his company. They stood him beer at the “Bell,” and walked by his side through the street. When they took to dropping in of an evening to smoke a pipe the carpenter was radiant with happiness. “You don’t seem to see beyond the end of your nose, Tidger,” said the wife of his bosom after they had retired one evening. “H’m?” said the startled carpenter. “What do you think old Miller, the dealer, comes here for?” demanded his wife. “Smoke his pipe,” replied her husband, confidently. “And old Wiggett?” persisted Mrs. Tidger.