andfather, and live
on the profits from the till and the counter. There's Mary calling. We
must tell a fib, we must say that we thought she was to come to fetch
us; don't you forget. Well, there it is, perhaps you'll think it over at
your leisure."

"Yes, John," replied the Colonel, solemnly; "certainly I will think it
over. Of course, there are pros and cons, but, on the whole, speaking
offhand, I don't see why the young people should not make a match. Also
you have always been a good relative, and, what is better, a good friend
to me, so, of course, if possible I should like to fall in with your
wishes."

Mr. Porson, who was advancing towards the door, wheeled round quickly.

"Thank you, Colonel," he said, "I appreciate your sentiments; but don't
you make any mistake. It isn't my wishes that have to be fallen in
with--or your wishes. It's the wishes of your son, Morris, and my
daughter, Mary. If they are agreeable I'd like it well; if not, all the
money in the world, nor all the families in the world, wouldn't make me
have anything to do with the job, or you either. Whatever our failings,
we are honest men--both of us, who would not sell our flesh and blood
for such trash as that."

CHAPTER IV

MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS

A fortnight had gone by, and during this time Morris was a frequent
visitor at Seaview. Also his Cousin Mary had come over twice or thrice
to lunch, with her father or without him. Once, indeed, she had stopped
all the afternoon, spending most of it in the workshop with Morris. This
workshop, it may be remembered, was the old chapel of the Abbey, a very
beautiful and still perfect building, finished in early Tudor times, in
which, by good fortune, the rich stained glass of the east window still
remained. It made a noble and spacious laboratory, with its wide nave
and lovely roof of chestnut wood, whereof the corbels were seraphs,
white-robed and golden-winged.

"Are you not afraid to desecrate such a place with your horrid vices--I
mean the iron things--and furnace and litter?" asked Mary. She had sunk
down upon an anvil, on which lay a newspaper, the first seat that she
could find, and thence surveyed the strange, incongruous scene.

"Well, if you ask, I don't like it," answered Morris. "But there is no
other place that I can have, for my father is afraid of the forge in the
house, and I can't afford to build a workshop outside."

"It ought to be restored," said Mary, "wit