This fable seemed so satisfactory to her that she whispered it to one or two persons, who in turn whispered it to two or three others, till it became generally whispered and believed, and was indeed only not heard by the persons whom it immediately concerned, and who alone could have disproved it. “But if she’s old Billy’s heiress, it don’t matter a pin whose daughter she was?” said Brancepeth, with admirable common sense, the kind of common sense which is a conspicuous trait of youth at the end of this century. And it was the general sentiment. This story came to the ears of Hurstmanceaux. “Who told you?” he said to the lady who prattled it to him. “Mouse,” the lady hastened to say. “It is because it came from her that I believed it.” He went to his sister. “I hear you are the originator of a story that Miss Massarene is the daughter of Framlingham. What authority have you for such a statement?” She laughed a little. “Oh, I don’t know! I think so----” “You think so. Is that all?” “Well, yes, I suppose it is. But I am quite sure of it.” “On what grounds?” “Grounds? What do you mean? It is my idea----” “Ah! it is your idea. And for such ideas, when they are spoken or written, there is a legal phraseology and a legal punishment.” She looked at him startled, but amused. “What can you possibly mean? One can say anything one pleases.” “If it be not libel. This is. You will do well to contradict the report you have set afloat.” “Goodness, Ronald! How odd you are! You won’t even know these people. What can it matter to you whether they are talked of or not?” “It matters nothing to me. But it matters much to me that you should invent and circulate falsehoods, and try to injure by them an entirely blameless person.” “Meaning Katherine Massarene?” “Certainly, meaning Miss Massarene.” She laughed, much diverted. “Are you changing your mind about her?” “In no way. But she is a person who conducts herself admirably in a most difficult and odious position, and I do not choose to allow you to circulate inventions which may ultimately injure her extremely. You will remember that some time ago I made you retract a calumny; I shall act in the same way now unless you, of your accord, can completely withdraw this tale you have set about.” She was silent. She remembered how unpleasant he had been when she had fabricated a pretty web of falsehoods concerning one of her acquaintances, actually forcing her to apologize to all the people concerned. “I can’t imagine why you should care,” she said sullenly. “To care for abstract justice is quite unintelligible to you,” he answered. “It is to most people. Will you retract this lie or will you not?” “You make a storm in a teacup. What will you do if I don’t?” “I shall tell your friend Mr. Massarene how you return his hospitalities, and I shall make you confess your inventions.”