She rang the bell as she spoke. To order the carriage, and for Margery to come for Miss Meta. The latter, who had played the trick before, suddenly broke from Margery, and dashed into the Bank parlour. She had learned to open the door. George by good luck happened to be alone. He affected great anger, and Margery also scolded sharply. George had been sitting at a table, bending over account books, his spirit weary, his brow knit. His assumed anger was wasted: for he caught up the child the next moment and covered her face with kisses. Then he carried her into the dining-room to Maria. "What am I to do with this naughty child, mamma? She came bursting in upon me like a great fierce lion. I must buy a real lion and keep him in the closet, and let him loose if she does it again. Meta won't like to be eaten up." Meta laughed confidentially. "Papa won't let a lion eat Meta." "You saucy child!" But George's punishment consisted only of more kisses. "Is Meta going with you?" asked George, when Maria told him of the contemplated visit to Mrs. Averil. Meta interposed. "Yes, she should go," she said. "If I take Meta, I must take you also, Margery," observed Maria. "I cannot have the trouble of her in the carriage." "_I_ shan't hinder time," was Margery's response. "My bonnet and shawl's soon put on, ma'am. Come along, child. I'll dress you at once." She went off with Meta, waiting for no further permission. George stepped out on the terrace, to see what Jonathan and David were about. Maria took the opportunity to tell him of the sixty pounds which had come to old Jekyl, and that she had advised its being brought to the Bank to be taken care of. "What money is it? Where does it come from?" inquired George of the men. "It's the money, sir, as was left to father this three years ago, from that dead uncle of ourn," returned Jonathan. "But the lawyers, sir, they couldn't agree, and it was never paid over. Now there has been a trial over it, something about the will; and father has had notice that it's ready for him, all the sixty pound." "We will take care of it for him, and pay him interest, tell him, if he chooses to leave it here," said George. "I'll tell him, sure enough, sir. He's safe to bring it." The carriage was at the door in due course, and they were ready. A handsome carriage; acknowledged to be so by even Mrs. Hastings. George came out to hand them in. Miss Meta, a pretty little dressed-up fairy; Margery, plain and old-fashioned; Mrs. Hastings, quiet and ladylike; Maria, beautiful. Her hand lingered in her husband's. "I wish you were coming, George," she bent from the carriage to whisper. "I am too busy to-day, my dearest."