"That's Thomas Ewins's daughter," said Mr. Jupp to his niece.

“Oh” . . . said almost indifferently.

"Yes, old Ewins . . . he's been up at the inquest, they say the inquest on Ralph Higgins."

"Oh. I suppose Mr. Harvey knows them?"

"Yes, yes: they're relatives, after a fashion. But nobody would guess it. She's all right, I think: I don't see or hear much of her. Dolly, that's her name."

"Is . . . er Mr. Harvey isn't engaged to her, is he?"

"Not that I know of. He might be. She'll have plenty of money if that's anything for a chap. But Now would you like a good long

er

er

walk, Lina?"

"I think I'd rather go in, uncle, if you don't mind." "Go in—in the house?"

"Ye-es."

"No! No! No! I know what we'll do. We'll turn back and go and call on George Harvey. I want 'em all to come to supper one night. I've got something to talk to them about—a great scheme. Come back with me, eh?"

"To er-certainly, of course, uncle," and she took his arm to let him see how pleased she was to be in his company, and he stretched his old back a bit, with pride at having by his side such a bonny niece, who held on to his arm so lovingly. "We'll have a little chat with the Harveys: they're of the best, Lina, of the very best: prime cuts, George and Margaret Harvey-Aye, and Lance too.

"I suppose Mr. Harvey goes about a great deal.” "Not that much: he's got that shop, you see."

"But he's a journalist-I meant the son."

"Oh! Lance! . . . You were thinking of Lance, eh... Very natural, too. Yes, he has to be here, there and everywhere. Press, you see. He'd be at the inquest: he has all the news. I expect he's coming from some meeting or other now-probably run across Dolly Ewins as he came up."

"Yes, yes," and she brightened like a bird on a bough that has driven away a rival, that feels the sun congratulating it and knows happiness is sure. Not that she felt these things: she only brightened up like a bird in the simile might.

Lance incidentally told Dolly as they walked that poor Ralph Higgins had given them a model of his patent and made them partners. He supposed the patent was theirs now. Dolly did not altogether understand, so Lance told her of the smashed machine. When she was at tea with her father and mother and brother, she incidentally mentioned this. "What's that?" asked David.

"Mr. Higgins gave Mr. Harvey his patent before he died."

"What's that?" asked Mr. Ewins.

"Mr. Higgins-that's dead, you know"

"I know that-get on wi' your tale."

"Well, he had two machines made and gave one to Mr. Harvey."

"Suppose Mr. 'Arvey does us one in the eye. . Poor old Ewins an' Tugwell!" He spoke with a jolly kind of maliciousness.

"Shut up," said Mr. Ewins. "What do they know about machines? You're quite sure, Dolly?"

"I'm only tellin' you what he said. I'm not sure about anything," said Dolly. "Lance said he'd been working it or using it-I don't understand."

"'E'd been what-that bletherhead! What the devil does 'e know about a machine-never mind: get on wi' your tea.”

David looked up.

"Lord! There's a chance for me. I'll pal up to Lance .. Harvey & Ewins, the new firm: good wages paid

"Shut your infernal row," said Mr. Ewins savagely: "it's time you'd finished and were back at work."

"Let me finish my allowance of tea: tain't much— but it's all I can afford . . . What ho! There is beauty in the bellow of the blast. Lance Harvey sluggin' Ewins an' Tugwell one in the bread basket . I'm goin' to put my money on 'im . . . money on th' little 'un. By Gum!..

"Shut your damn row, I tell you," roared Ewins, "an' get back to work."

David got up.

"Finished," he said. "For what we 'ave received

Back to the beautiful work! Fifteen bob a week an' don't linger over your tea! Go on, Lance, my give 'em socks.

bully boy

go on .

My God!"

He went out dancing.

Mr. Ewins looked at his wife as if he hated her: he knew she sympathised with David, and secretly encouraged him, he thought.

She knew he was looking at her and sipped her

tea, wearing in the meanwhile a look of satisfaction and detestation.

Ewins got up from the table, sank in his easy chair, and took up the investment bible.

But he was saying to himself: "What will the 'Arveys do with that machine? . . . Sell it? . . . I must get it . . ."

THO

CHAPTER XVIII

"PUNISHMENT"

HOMAS EWINS though a sanguine man was not a happy man. After Higgins-the Harveys! What on earth had Ralph Higgins given the Harveys of all people in the world-a machine for? It seemed preposterous. It was not a joke, either. Thomas Ewins could not understand jokes.

As a rule he slept well, but the last night or two had been unsatisfactory. There was that stick to disturb him now and again, even though now it was well hidden at the works. And Higgins's face lying on the floor, with the word "Flummuxed" ringing in the atmosphere wherever he-Ewins-went. And he heard the curious sinking crash of the stick on the little steel things: the greater bursting crash of the machine as it dashed on the floor-and that awful click of Higgins's head . . .

He had gone through all that to get rid of a new machine and now it popped up again. Like a ghost: like something that would not be hidden.

But he, Ewins, was great on facing facts. Facts were everything to him. Money was the greatest fact there was besides life-and that horrible death. Ugh .. he shivered at the idea of death.

He comforted himself that the doctor had said Ralph Higgins had died from heart-disease. HeEwins-hadn't given the chap heart disease! They