tion of all three men that Henry had never been
irritated at Mr. Starkweather, nor resentful towards his friend. On
the contrary, he admitted that unless he were himself, he would rather
be Standish than anyone else. He wondered if his uncle could have
planned for him so delightful a penance as a year or two of happy
servitude under Bob. He must see Bob and congratulate him. Only
twenty-seven, and the head of the most important concern of its type
in several counties.

Aunt Mirabelle sniffed. "Good for _nothing_. He's most as scatter-brained
as you are."

Henry declined the combat, and after she sensed his intention, she
went on, with increasing acridity.

"The rest of the whole estate's tied up for a year in a trust, to see
what you're going to do with some piece of property he deeded to you
just before he died, but Mr. Archer wouldn't tell me much about it
'till you came home. I _suppose_ it's part of the business--some
department of it. If you can make ten thousand dollars out of it,
you're to have everything. All _I_ get's a few thousand outright, and
what John gave me in a little separate fund, and a year's income from
the whole estate. I suppose you think that's perfectly fair and right
and just. Naturally, you would."

In his present mood, Henry was immune to astonishment. "I don't
believe it's up to me to criticize Uncle John, whatever he did."

"Not under the circumstances, no. You've got some piece of property--_I_
don't know what it is; he didn't tell me; _I_'m only his sister--and
he's fixed things so it's just a gamble for you. You're going to do the
gambling; and I sit back and fold my hands and wait a year to see
whether you get everything, or I do. Even this house."

"What's that?"

She made a deprecating gesture. "Oh, yes, if you aren't a good enough
gambler, then _I_ come into everything. It puts me in such a sweet
position, doesn't it? So comfortable for me." Her smile was bitter;
she was recalling what her brother had said to her at lunch, on that
final day--that he wouldn't listen to her, because already he had
heard the worst that she had to say. Originally, as she knew, he had
intended to bequeath Henry a fourth of his property, and herself the
remainder; and she knew that by her too vigorous indictment of Henry
she had egged her brother into a state of mind which, regardless of
the cause of it, she still considered to be unfathomable. The memory
galled her, and so did the possibility of