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liked to say was, “And why should anyone suppose that I have the slighest desire to keep Maurice in England?” But she curbed herself and merely observed,
    “A wild-cat scheme. I couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it.”
    Mr. Wadlow put out a deprecating hand.
    “Youth is always at extremes. Maurice will learn wisdom.”
    “I hope so.”
    There was real anxiety in Ernest Wadlow’s voice as he said,
    “But if he goes to Russia—Rachel, we can’t feel easy about that.”
    “Perhaps he won’t go.”
    “He will if this other scheme falls through. He is quite off reading for the Bar. He says all our legal machinery in this country is effete and ought to be liquidated. Mabel is more than uneasy. But if he had five thousand pounds to put into the Colony—”
    A warm glow of anger brought the color to Miss Treherne’s cheeks.
    “Five thousand pounds? My dear Ernest!”
    Mabel Wadlow had come up behind the sofa. She said with surprising energy,
    “Oh, Rachel! It wouldn’t be anything to you, and it would keep my boy at home.”
    Rachel Treherne got up.
    “I can’t discuss it. I couldn’t possibly put money into that sort of thing.”
    Mabel’s voice began to flutter.
    “Oh, Rachel—how unkind—my boy—your own nephew! And after all—it would only mean—advancing some of what will come to him—some day.”
    The glow rose to a white heat. Rachel Treherne said,
    “You mean when I am dead. But who told you that Maurice would come in for five thousand pounds, or five thousand pence, if I were to die tomorrow?” She spoke quite low.
    Someone had switched on the wireless at the other end of the room. There was talk and laughter. She looked at Mabel and Ernest, and she thought, “He was down for ten thousand in that draft… And they know it.”
    She saw their faces change—Ernest just got to his feet, Mabel peaked and tearful, leaning a little forward with her hands on the padded back of the sofa. Her heart turned sick within her. She said quite low,
    “Please don’t let us talk of it any more,” and turning, walked over to the group by the fire.
    Chapter Eight
    They made room for her. Richard pulled up a chair. Caroline caught her hand as she passed and held it against her cheek.
    “Oh, darling—you’re still cold!”
    “It’s only my hands,” said Rachel Treherne. Her face burned. She leaned back and screened it from the fire.
    “What were the parents talking to you about?” said Cherry in an inquisitive voice.
    They were still talking to each other at the far end of the room. Anger had loosened Rachel’s tongue. With a trace of surprise she heard herself say,
    “Something that I don’t want to go on talking about.”
    Cherry’s eyes sparkled maliciously.
    “Oh, then it was Maurice. And I bet they wanted you to give him money—as usual. But if there’s any going, I’m a much more deserving object.”
    “I said I don’t want to talk about it, Cherry.”
    Maurice was glaring at his sister. Richard Treherne struck in.
    “I saw the most extraordinary thing when I was on my way over this afternoon. I came the cliff way, and as I passed Tollage’s place, he’d got two men digging out a length of that old mixed hedge of his. A great pity, for it makes a good wind-break, but his wife wants to see the sea from her drawing-room windows. Well, the men called out to me as I passed and showed me half a dozen adders they’d dug out, laid up for the winter under the hedge. There was quite a crowd of village boys hanging round on the watch to see if any more would turn up.”
    Maurice laughed.
    “Pity Cherry wasn’t there,” he said. “An adder would make just the right kind of pet for her.”
    Cherry rolled her eyes at Richard. She had changed into a pale green dress with no back, no sleeves. She said in an affected voice,
    “Oh, I should love a snake!”
    Richard’s eyes met hers with rather an odd look.
    “Well, you had your chance. You must have come that way.”
    “Adders are