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man to task before Uncle Martin had officially handed the reins of power to her. But today she was determined that she would speak her mind.
    Cat dressed carefully in a new white muslin gown embroidered minutely with vio lets and forget-me-nots. As it was early in the day, she let her dark curls hang loose and tied a violet velvet ribbon around them before she went downstairs. At the breakfast table she was greeted with good wishes from her aunt and uncle, as well as Eveline who had already joined them. Cat was delighted to see the first strawberries of the season and helped herself to the fresh cream that accompanied them. Uncle Martin arose and cleared his throat. “Before we begin, Catherine, I wish to propose a toast. Miss Bartlett, would we offend propriety if we began the day with some champagne?”
    “ I think not,” she smiled mischievously, “although it seems most appropriate to be inappropriate on our Cat's birthday!”
    Uncle Martin poured them each a tall sparkling glass. “To Catherine. May this day of new beginnings bring happiness to our Catherine and to us all!”
    After breakfast, Cat opened her packages. Eveline gave her a beautifully bound collection of Elizabethan poetry. Cecily and John had left antique amethyst earrings to match the drop Cat had worn the day of the wedding. From her aunt and uncle came an inlaid jewelry box that played a waltz when the lid was opened. Cat smiled at the significance of the tune: they had discussed a number of times the appropriateness of her learning this dance.
    “ This was delivered this morning, as well,” Uncle Martin said as he handed her a bouquet of new roses along with a card bearing Mr. Hazelforth's name. As Cat took the flowers, she noted with a rush of mixed feelings that the thorns had been carefully removed.
    Soon after, the butler announced that Mr. Bag-smith was awaiting them in the library. As Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin arose to accompany her, Cat took Eveline's hand. “Please come along, too. For all my independence, I know I may be needing your advice before too long, so I want you to be as familiar with my affairs as I am.” The other woman, gratified at this confidence, rose with a smile, and the two entered the library arm in arm.
    There they found a remarkable scene. An exas perated Mr. Bagsmith, who resembled nothing so much as newly boiled lobster, so red in face and bent over was he, was attempting to wrest a large envelope away from Brutus who had run behind the desk with it. As soon as Mr. Bagsmith's back was turned, Caesar helped himself to more papers from the solicitor's satchel. Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin began trying without much success to confine one or the other of the mischievous scamps, while Cat added her pleas to the general hubbub. If the truth were known, though, the naughty dogs paid as little attention to their mistress, who was notoriously lenient with them, as they did to anyone else. Finally after much coaxing and offering of treats, the two were finally captured and taken away, wagging their stubby tails, blithely ignoring any and all attempts to shame them.
    “ Ahem,” Mr. Bagsmith began, much disgruntled, “I hope you will not mind the chewed corners, Miss Mansard. I can assure you that it will not affect their legality, although much of their aesthetic quality is now lost.” Mr. Bagsmith prided himself on the excellent penmanship of his clerks and he stared down at the tattered documents dismally.
    “ I am very sorry for the trouble, Mr. Bagsmith,” Cat began, although the smile she tried to hide belied this statement. “Do let us begin.”
    Mr. Bagsmith made a great show of arranging his various papers, but finally cleared his throat and looked up at Cat. “You know to some extent, I believe, the terms of your grandmother's will. That is, you are her only heir and are to come into the estate upon reaching this, your twentieth birthday. There are, however, some rather unusual details which she wished to