_Your communication of the 24th inst. with kind enclosures was duly received. For the moment I am too much disturbed by the situation thus created to express worthily my repugnance to the notion of losing Miss Mary Flower. I should esteem it a favor if you would, so far as the emotions of a suppositious father can be suitably conveyed through the medium of legal phraseology, convey to Her Ladyship that my good wife and myself are most anxious not to part with the child whom we literally snatched from the angry deep. With all respect I venture to observe that until this moment none of her relatives has shown the slightest concern for the child's welfare beyond the quarterly allowance of £25 sterling. Mrs. Fawcus and myself on the other hand have never felt anything but the profoundest affection for her, and I can assure you that we would have left ourselves with nothing more than the bare necessities of life rather than that she should have wanted for the least thing._ _In the hope of shortly receiving from you a favorable reply to my request_, _I am, Gentlemen, Your obedient servant, William Axworthy Fawcus_. It was settled not to say anything to Mary until the lawyers wrote again: 151 Lamb's Conduit Street, W.C. _April 3, 1870._ _Dear Sir_, _We have to say in answer to your letter of the 25th ult. that we have communicated the substance of your request to Lady Flower, and that she is unable to agree to your suggestion that Miss Mary Flower should remain in your care. We take this opportunity to point out that when in March, 1860, the late Sir Richard Flower invited you to look after his granddaughter he made it clear that such an arrangement was for ten years, at the end of which time he gave you to understand the future of the child would once more come up for discussion._ _Hoping that we shall hear from you in the course of a day or two, appointing a time to call upon us_, _We are, Yours faithfully, Hepper and Philcox_. "Who's to tell Mary?" Mrs. Fawcus asked with fear in her voice. "Well, I had thought of your telling her," Mr. Fawcus admitted. "But perhaps the most equitable way would be for us both to tell her." The worst of it was that, when they did brace themselves to tell her and were prepared at whatever cost to themselves to alleviate in every possible way her grief, Mary herself jumped for joy at the notion of visiting her grandmother in France. "She doesn't mean to be cruel," said Mrs. Fawcus, patting her husband's arm reassuringly. "No, no, certainly not," he agreed. "It's just the heedlessness of youth." Mrs. Fawcus sighed. "We were young once ourselves, Mr. Fawcus." The imminent departure of Mary made "Uncle William" sound ridiculous now, and Mrs. Fawcus went back to her time-honored mode of address.