conversation. He knew them well; indeed, the younger
lady had been one of his favourite partners at the county balls.

"How cheap the things went, Ida! Fancy buying that old oak sideboard for
ten pounds, and with all those Outram quarterings on it too! It is as
good as an historical document, and I am sure that it must be worth at
least fifty. I shall sell ours and put it into the dining-room. I have
coveted that sideboard for years."

The daughter sighed and answered with some asperity.

"I am so sorry for the Outrams that I should not care about the
sideboard if you had got it for twopence. What an awful smash! Just
think of the old place being bought by a Jew! Tom and Leonard are
utterly ruined, they say, not a sixpence left. I declare I nearly cried
when I saw that man selling Leonard's guns."

"Very sad indeed," answered the mother absently; "but if he is a Jew,
what does it matter? He has a title, and they say that he is enormously
rich. I expect there will be plenty going on at Outram soon. By the way,
my dear Ida, I do wish you would cure yourself of the habit of calling
young men by their Christian names--not that it matters about these two,
for we shall never see any more of them."

"I am sure I hope that we shall," said Ida defiantly, "and when we do
I shall call them by their Christian names as much as ever. You never
objected to it before the smash, and I _love_ both of them, so there!
Why did you bring me to that horrid sale? You know I did not want to go.
I shall be wretched for a week, I----" and the carriage swept on out of
hearing.

Leonard emerged from the shadow of the gateway and crossed the road
swiftly. On the further side of it he paused, and looking after the
retreating carriage said aloud, "God bless you for your kind heart, Ida
Hatherley. Good luck go with you! And now for the other business."

A hundred yards or so down the road, was a second gate of much less
imposing appearance than those which led to the Outram Hall. Leonard
passed through it and presently found himself at the door of a square
red brick house, built with no other pretensions than to those of
comfort. This was the Rectory, now tenanted by the Reverend and
Honourable James Beach, to whom the living had been presented many years
before by Leonard's father, Mr. Beach's old college friend.

Leonard rang the bell, and as its distant clamour fell upon his ears a
new fear struck him. What sort of reception would he meet w