“Ought I to return it all to you or only part of it?” inquired Charles Marcellaz timidly, his generosity the more to be commended because regrets, remorse and hesitation went with it. “It is invested at a certain figure in a share of the law practice I bought at Lyons.” “By no means, my dear Charles. It belongs to you and Germaine outright, and you have three children to look out for. When Felicie went into the convent we bought annuities for her with twenty thousand francs, and we had reserved a like sum for Margaret’s dot. Of this she has already had eight thousand francs, which she sent to her brother.” “One hundred and eight thousand,” counted up Leo, who had been sulking, beneath his breath. “He comes high.” He was not aware as yet of the little loans from their sinking funds of which his own mother and the old magistrate had been guilty the preceding year. “Father,” said Margaret, “dispose of my dot. I shall never marry.” “Women are meant to be married,” declared the widow. But Margaret added resolutely: “I have my diploma. I shall work. I’ll start a school.” “Women oughtn’t to inherit, according to my ideas,” put in Uncle Stephen, “but I’ll moderate my principles in Margaret’s favour. She shall have my forty thousand francs when I die.” “Thirty thousand,” corrected Leo, appraising his loss. “No, forty,” replied the old man, suppressing his avarice definitely but painfully in the common crisis. “I put it lower just now inadvertently. It’s as much as forty-five, to be done with it. I’ll make a new will. I had made you my heir, Francis.” “I thank you for Margaret, uncle. But I shall not touch her dot, which isn’t enough anyway, unless it’s impossible to realise on La Vigie promptly and at good terms. It will be better to sell the estate, if possible, than to mortgage it. I’ve thought it all out. The returns from land nowadays are precarious. With modern transportation facilities there is competition from such a distance that we can’t any longer count on profits. I prefer to make Margaret’s future sure, and let my sons arrange their own schemes of life. If I can’t find any one to buy, then the land can always be given as security for a loan.” “We can give you good security, too,” the widow assured him. “Exactly,” acquiesced Uncle Stephen. The family council was over. Friendly farewells were exchanged by all excepting Leo, who still showed a little coldness to his uncle. “It’s always the security that is lost,” he observed to his mother on the staircase. “I’d pay it gladly,” said the latter flatly. “Oh, you. You’re too good,” retorted her son. “And you’re too ungrateful,” said his mother. “It was my father that was helped out of a hole. Not I.” “You or your father. Doesn’t it come to the same thing?” “No.”