fellow. Four hundred and thirty-six pounds; there it is."

He tossed the piece of paper into the air with boyish glee, and only
just caught it as it was fluttering into the fire.

"Oh, be careful!" cried Mrs. Hilliard.

"I told him he was a scoundrel, and he began by threatening to thrash
me. I'm very glad he didn't try. It was in the train, and I know very
well I should have strangled him. It would have been awkward, you know."

"Oh, Maurice, how _can_ you----?"

"Well, here's the money; and half of it is yours."

"Mine? Oh, no! After all you have given me. Besides, I sha'n't want it."

"How's that?"

Their eyes mete Hilliard again saw the flush in her cheeks, and began
to guess its explanation. He looked puzzled, interested.

"Do I know him?" was his next inquiry.

"Should you think it very wrong of me?" She moved aside from the line
of his gaze. "I couldn't imagine how you would take it."

"It all depends. Who is the man?"

Still shrinking towards a position where Hilliard could not easily
observe her, the young widow told her story. She had consented to marry
a man of whom her brother-in-law knew little but the name, one Ezra
Marr; he was turned forty, a widower without children, and belonged to
a class of small employers of labour known in Birmingham as "little
masters." The contrast between such a man and Maurice Hilliard's
brother was sufficiently pronounced; but the widow nervously did her
best to show Ezra Marr in a favourable light.

"And then," she added after a pause, while Hilliard was reflecting, "I
couldn't go on being a burden on you. How very few men would have done
what you have----"

"Stop a minute. Is _that_ the real reason? If so----"

Hurriedly she interposed.

"That was only one of the reasons--only one."

Hilliard knew very well that her marriage had not been entirely
successful; it seemed to him very probable that with a husband of the
artisan class, a vigorous and go-ahead fellow, she would be better
mated than in the former instance. He felt sorry for his little niece,
but there again sentiment doubtless conflicted with common-sense. A few
more questions, and it became clear to him that he had no ground of
resistance.

"Very well. Most likely you are doing a wise thing. And half this money
is yours; you'll find it useful."

The discussion of this point was interrupted by a tap at the door. Mrs.
Hilliard, after leaving the room for a moment, returned with rosy
countenanc