s a bucket. Or a private urn."

"What's the matter with a trough?" said Jonah. "That'd be more in
keeping."

Berry turned to Adele.

"You see?" he said. "Two putrid minds with but a single snort. But there
you are. Don't dwell on it. Pass the marmalade instead." He turned to
his wife. "And what's the programme for to-day? The glass has gone up,
it's already raining, 'all's right with the world.' Anybody like to play
ping-pong?"

"Fool," said his wife. "As a matter of fact, I don't think it would be a
bad idea if we went over to Broken Ash for tea." Berry made a grimace,
and Jill and I groaned. Even Jonah looked down his nose at the
suggestion. "Yes," my sister continued, "I didn't think it'd be a
popular move, but I'd like Adele to see the pictures, and we haven't
shown a sign of life since we left Town."

At Broken Ash lived the other branch of the Pleydell family, consisting
of our Cousin Vandy and his two sisters. Between them and us there was
little love lost. Of their jealousy of Berry, but for whose birth White
Ladies would have passed into their hands, they made but an open secret;
and, when he married my sister, who was his second cousin, and the
Mansels--Cousins Jonah and Jill--had thrown in their lot with us,
relations had become more strained than before. The conventions were,
however, observed. Calendars were exchanged at Christmas, birthdays were
recognized with a cold epistolary nod, and occasional calls were paid
and invitations issued. Their possession of all but two of the family
portraits was undoubted, and with nine points of the law in their favour
they were well armed. It was an open question whether the tenth point,
which was ours, was sufficiently doughty to lay the other nine by the
heels. Years ago counsel had advised that the law was dead in our
favour, but it was certain that Vandy and his sisters would resist any
claim we made with great bitterness, and the settlement of a family
quarrel in the public ring of the High Court was more than we could
stomach.

Still, the pictures were worth seeing. There were a Holbein, a Van Dyck,
three Gainsboroughs, and two from the brush of Reynolds among them, and,
so soon as she had learned of their existence, Adele had evinced an
eagerness to be shown the collection.

There was a moment's silence. Then--

"I'd hate to think you were going for my sake," said Adele.

"We're not, dear," said Daphne. "Even if you weren't here, we should
have to go