he said, "is where you make error! Mine! Old boy gave them
to me."

"Gave them to you? Then, why did you break open the drawer?"

"Old boy took them back again--when he found out about letter."

"Then, they don't belong to you."

"Yes. Error! They do. Moral right."

Molly wrinkled her forehead in her agitation. Men of Lord Dreever's
type appeal to the motherly instinct of women. As a man, his
lordship was a negligible quantity. He did not count. But as a
willful child, to be kept out of trouble, he had a claim on Molly.

She spoke soothingly.

"But, Lord Dreever,--" she began. "Call me Spennie," he urged.
"We're pals. You said so--on stairs. Everybody calls me
Spennie--even Uncle Thomas. I'm going to pull his nose," he broke off
suddenly, as one recollecting a forgotten appointment.

"Spennie, then," said Molly. "You mustn't, Spennie. You mustn't,
really. You--"

"You look rippin' in that dress," said his lordship, irrelevantly.

"Thank you, Spennie, dear. But listen." Molly spoke as if she were
humoring a rebellious infant. "You really mustn't take that money.
You must put it back. See, I'm putting this note back. Give me the
others, and I'll put them in the drawer, too. Then, we'll shut the
drawer, and nobody will know."

She took the notes from him, and replaced them in the drawer. He
watched her thoughtfully, as if he were pondering the merits of her
arguments.

"No," he said, suddenly, "no! Must have them! Moral right. Old boy--"

She pushed him gently away.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said. "I know. It's a shame that you can't
have them. But you mustn't take them. Don't you see that he would
suspect you the moment he found they were gone, and then you'd get
into trouble?"

"Something in that," admitted his lordship.

"Of course there is, Spennie, dear. I'm so glad you see! There they
all are, safe again in the drawer. Now, we can go downstairs again,
and--"

She stopped. She had closed the door earlier in the proceedings, but
her quick ear caught the sound of a footstep in the passage outside.

"Quick!" she whispered, taking his hand and darting to the electric-light
switch. "Somebody's coming. We mustn't be caught here. They'd
see the broken, drawer, and you'd get into awful trouble. Quick!"

She pushed him behind the curtain where the clothes hung, and
switched off the light.

From behind the curtain came the muffled voice of his lordship.

"It's Uncle Thomas. I'm coming out. Pull his n