ercups, Cora made her foray
with hunger's lawless haste, enlisted the aid of an indigent person
skilled in blazonry, and in good season brought her spoils to the
governor.

"I've had bother enough getting this," she said, exhibiting a coat of
arms; "but I must say it's far prettier than the one we saw in Mrs. Van
Dam's library."

"Runs mainly to red, doesn't it?" Shelby ventured, gravely considering
the work.

"That's gules," explained Cora, learnedly; "the color of the field.
Books of heraldry describe the arms as: 'Gules, two boars' heads
displayed in chief and a mullet in base, sable; crest, a dexter arm,
embowed, grasping a cimeter--'"

"I took that for a crumb-scraper," put in the governor, jocularly.

"The motto," went on Cora, soberly, "is, 'I achieve.' I think the
purple of the mantling highly effective--purpure, that's called--which,
taken with the red and black, would give a most romantic light to our
hall in New Babylon if we put a window at the turn of the stair.
Tomorrow morning I shall order a die made for my stationery."

"So this is ours," said Shelby. "Did the original owner acquire it in
the Holy Wars, or was he a rich brewer who endowed a hospital?"

Cora reddened.

"He was Owen Shelby, a Welsh soldier of the Commonwealth."

"A near relation of mine?"

"You are undoubtedly his descendant. Of course I can't supply every
trifling link--your people were so careless of their records; but there
is no question in my mind that you are entitled to his arms, and you
ought to be grateful to me for my pains."

"I am, I am," protested Shelby, with a chuckle. "But before the
engraver begins work on the crumb-scraper and the prize pigs let me
suggest that you add a detail which has been overlooked. I mean a bar
sinister."

"Ross!"

He slipped his arm round her waist with a laugh.

"One of the state library people said that you were trailing the
foreign Shelbys, and I glanced at your references. The fact I remember
best is that Owen Shelby, late of Cromwell's Ironsides, died a
bachelor."

She flung from him in stormy anger.

"I've twice been fool enough," she flashed, "to marry a man unable to
appreciate me."

He winced. The reproach, more wanton than any she had ever framed,
lashed him on the raw. The manner of his succession to Joe Hilliard's
shoes had fostered an almost morbid solicitude for her well being which
had not seldom over-topped his better judgment. If he had failed of