Fancy Mrs. Billing knowing this story
all that time and keeping it to herself; how sly!

"Oh, only lately," replied the visitor in an apologetic key; "an old
aunt of mine lives in Oxford, and I met her in town last Easter.
Somehow the name of Shafto cropped up, and I heard the whole tale. I
told my husband and he said I'd better hold my tongue, and so I have,
until now, when it's of no consequence who knows--as of course
'Littlecote' must be given up, and the Shaftos will go away."

"Well, we have often wondered who she was? and how Shafto--who looked
like a duke--came to marry her," said Miss Tebbs; "such an odd,
flighty, uncertain sort of creature, always for strangers, instead of
her home. That poor boy never saw much of his mother; I believe he was
hustled off to a preparatory school when he was about seven, and when
he happened to be here for his holidays it was his father who took him
about. I am very sorry for Douglas, a handsome, cheery, nice fellow,"
she continued, "always with a pleasant word, even for an old woman like
me. The rectory lads and the Tremenheeres just love him!"

"Luckily there are no girls at the rectory," remarked Miss Mitty.

"Douglas is but nineteen, and really only a boy," protested Mrs.
Billing.

"Well, this affair will make a man of him, or I'm greatly mistaken."

"More likely it will make him a slave," argued Jane; "he is bound to
support his mother, and a hundred and fifty pounds a year won't go far
with her! And now I dare say she will have her wish and be able to
live in London. I suppose there will be an auction at 'Littlecote'?"

"Yes, of course," assented Mrs. Billing, "and that is sure to bring in
a handsome sum--unless there are liabilities and debts. I've always
admired that Crown Derby tea service--dark blue and gold."

"I know," rejoined Miss Tebbs, "a beautiful long set, and there's a
nice little old Sheffield tea urn that we could do with! I expect the
kitchen things will go pretty cheap; we want a new preserving pan."

"Talking of the kitchen, reminds me of food," remarked the visitor
rising. "My husband will be back clamouring for his lunch and I must
run," and in spite of her size, Mrs. Billing was out of the house in
less than no time, pursued by a volley of questions to the very gate.

* * * * * *

During that afternoon there was an unusual amount of visiting and
talking; the recent event had stirred the village to it