‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. I don’t see how they can be. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them.
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