ant
was to him the only cause of action. And the question in this case was
correct, for his wife replied, "She wants Howards End."

"Howards End? Now, Crane, just don't forget to put on the Stepney
wheel."

"No, sir."

"Now, mind you don't forget, for I--Come, little woman." When they were
out of the chauffeur's sight he put his arm round her waist and pressed
her against him. All his affection and half his attention--it was what
he granted her throughout their happy married life.

"But you haven't listened, Charles."

"What's wrong?"

"I keep on telling you--Howards End. Miss Schlegel's got it."

"Got what?" said Charles, unclasping her. "What the dickens are you
talking about?"

"Now, Charles, you promised not so say those naughty--"

"Look here, I'm in no mood for foolery. It's no morning for it either."

"I tell you--I keep on telling you--Miss Schlegel--she's got it--your
mother's left it to her--and you've all got to move out!"

"HOWARDS END?"

"HOWARDS END!" she screamed, mimicking him, and as she did so Evie came
dashing out of the shubbery.

"Dolly, go back at once! My father's much annoyed with you.
Charles"--she hit herself wildly--"come in at once to father. He's had a
letter that's too awful."

Charles began to run, but checked himself, and stepped heavily across
the gravel path. There the house was with the nine windows, the
unprolific vine. He exclaimed, "Schlegels again!" and as if to complete
chaos, Dolly said, "Oh no, the matron of the nursing home has written
instead of her."

"Come in, all three of you!" cried his father, no longer inert.

"Dolly, why have you disobeyed me?"

"Oh, Mr. Wilcox--"

"I told you not to go out to the garage. I've heard you all shouting in
the garden. I won't have it. Come in."

He stood in the porch, transformed, letters in his hand.

"Into the dining-room, every one of you. We can't discuss private
matters in the middle of all the servants. Here, Charles, here; read
these. See what you make."

Charles took two letters, and read them as he followed the procession.
The first was a covering note from the matron. Mrs. Wilcox had desired
her, when the funeral should be over, to forward the enclosed. The
enclosed--it was from his mother herself. She had written: "To my
husband: I should like Miss Schlegel (Margaret) to have Howards End."

"I suppose we're going to have a talk about this?" he remarked,
ominously calm.

"Certainly. I was coming out