id you think I was about to
say, Deborah?"

"What that cat said, insulting of my pretty. But I shoved her out of the
door, tellin' her what she were. She guv me and Bart and my own sunbeam
notice to quit," gasped Deborah, almost weeping, "an' quit we will this
very day, Bart bein' a-packin' at this momingt. 'Ear 'im knocking, and I
wish he wos a-knockin' at Mrs. Krill's 'ead, that I do, the flauntin'
hussy as she is, drat her."

"I'll go up and see Sylvia. No, Deborah, don't you come for a few
minutes. When you do come we'll arrange what is to be done."

Deborah nodded acquiescence. "Take my lovely flower in your arms, sir,"
she said, following him to the foot of the stairs, "and tell her as your
'eart is true, which true I knowed it would be."

Beecot was soon in the sitting-room and found Sylvia on the sofa, her
face buried in her hands. She looked up when she recognized the beloved
footsteps and sprang to her feet. The next moment she was sobbing her
heart out on Paul's faithful breast, and he was comforting her with all
the endearing names he could think of.

"My own, my sweet, my dearest darling," whispered Paul, smoothing the
pretty brown hair, "don't weep. You have lost much, but you have me."

"Dear," she wept, "do you think it is true?"

"I am afraid it is, Sylvia. However, I know a young lawyer, who is a
friend of mine, and I'll speak to him."

"But Paul, though my mother may not have been married to my father--"

"She _was_, Sylvia, but Mrs. Krill was married to him earlier. Your
father committed bigamy, and you, poor child, have to pay the penalty."

"Well, even if the marriage is wrong, the money was left to us."

"To you, dear," said Beecot, leading her to the sofa, "that is, the
money was left in that loosely-worded will to 'my daughter.' We all
thought it was you, but now this legal wife has come on the scene, the
money must go to her daughter. Oh, Sylvia," cried Paul, straining her to
his breast, "how foolish your father was not to say the money was left
to 'my daughter Sylvia.' Then everything would have been right. But the
absence of the name is fatal. The law will assume that the testator
meant his true daughter."

"And am I not his true daughter?" she asked, her lips quivering.

"You are my own darling, Sylvia," murmured Paul, kissing her hair;
"don't let us talk of the matter. I'll speak to my lawyer friend, but I
fear from the attitude of Pash that Mrs. Krill will make good her claim