"And our grandfather died a year before Aunt Sparling. She was mother's trustee. Oh, the money's all right--the trust money, I mean," said the girl, hastily. "But it was a lot of other things--that mother says grandpapa always meant to divide between her and Aunt Sparling--and she never had them--nor a farthing out of them!" "What other things? I don't understand." "Jewels!--there!--jewels--and a lot of plate. Mother says she had a right to half the things that belonged to her mother. Grandpapa always told her she should have them. And there wasn't a word about them in the will." "_I_ haven't any diamonds," said Diana, quietly, "or any jewels at all, except a string of pearls papa gave me when I was nineteen, and two or three little things we bought in Florence." Fanny Merton grew still redder; she stared aggressively at her cousin: "Well--that was because--Aunt Sparling sold all the things!" Diana started and recoiled. "You mean," she said--her breath fluttering--"that--mamma sold things she had no right to--and never gave Aunt Bertha the money!" The restrained passion of her look had an odd effect upon her companion. Fanny first wavered under it, then laughed--a laugh that was partly perplexity, partly something else, indecipherable. "Well, as I wasn't born then, I don't know. You needn't be cross with me, Diana; I didn't mean to say any harm of anybody. But--mother says"--she laid an obstinate stress on each word--"that she remembers quite well--grandpapa meant her to have: a diamond necklace; a _rivière_" (she began to check the items off on her fingers)--"there were two, and of course Aunt Sparling had the best; two bracelets, one with turquoises and one with pearls; a diamond brooch; an opal pendant; a little watch set with diamonds grandma used to wear; and then a lot of plate! Mother wrote me out a list--I've got it here." She opened a beaded bag on her wrist, took out half a sheet of paper, and handed it to Diana. Diana looked at it in silence. Even her lips were white, and her fingers shook. "Did you ever send this to papa?" she asked, after a minute. Fanny fidgeted again. "Yes." "And what did he say? Have you got his letter?" "No; I haven't got his letter." "Did he admit that--that mamma had done this?" Fanny hesitated: but her intelligence, which was of a simple kind, did not suggest to her an ingenious line of reply. "Well, I dare say he didn't. But that doesn't make any difference." "Was that what he and Uncle Merton quarrelled about?" Fanny hesitated again; then broke out: "Father only did what he ought--he asked for what was owed mother!" "And papa wouldn't give it!" cried Diana, in a strange note of scorn; "papa, who never could rest if he owed a farthing to anybody--who always overpaid everybody--whom everybody--" [Illustration: "YOU NEEDN'T BE CROSS WITH ME, DIANA"]