e, now?"

Ransford laid down his letters again, and thrusting his hands in his
pockets, squared his shoulders against the mantelpiece. "Don't you think
you might wait until you're twenty-one?" he asked.

"Why?" she said, with a laugh. "I'm just twenty--do you really think I
shall be any wiser in twelve months? Of course I shan't!"

"You don't know that," he replied. "You may be--a great deal wiser."

"But what has that got to do with it?" she persisted. "Is there any
reason why I shouldn't be told--everything?"

She was looking at him with a certain amount of demand--and Ransford,
who had always known that some moment of this sort must inevitably come,
felt that she was not going to be put off with ordinary excuses. He
hesitated--and she went on speaking.

"You know," she continued, almost pleadingly. "We don't know
anything--at all. I never have known, and until lately Dick has been too
young to care--"

"Has he begun asking questions?" demanded Ransford hastily.

"Once or twice, lately--yes," replied Mary. "It's only natural." She
laughed a little--a forced laugh. "They say," she went on, "that
it doesn't matter, nowadays, if you can't tell who your grandfather
was--but, just think, we don't know who our father was--except that his
name was John Bewery. That doesn't convey much."

"You know more," said Ransford. "I told you--always have told you--that
he was an early friend of mine, a man of business, who, with your
mother, died young, and I, as their friend, became guardian to you and
Dick. Is--is there anything much more that I could tell?"

"There's something I should very much like to know--personally," she
answered, after a pause which lasted so long that Ransford began to feel
uncomfortable under it. "Don't be angry--or hurt--if I tell you plainly
what it is. I'm quite sure it's never even occurred to Dick--but I'm
three years ahead of him. It's this--have we been dependent on you?"

Ransford's face flushed and he turned deliberately to the window, and
for a moment stood staring out on his garden and the glimpses of the
Cathedral. And just as deliberately as he had turned away, he turned
back.

"No!" he said. "Since you ask me, I'll tell you that. You've both got
money--due to you when you're of age. It--it's in my hands. Not a
great lot--but sufficient to--to cover all your expenses.
Education--everything. When you're twenty-one, I'll hand over
yours--when Dick's twenty-one, his. Perhaps I ought t