"No, indeed. He was always make believing about King Arthur, and now I mean to study 'The Little Flowers of St. Francis,' and 'The Path of Perfection.' St. Francis was awfully simple about money, you know. Now we have done, haven't we? Here is my will. 'I give everything I have got to Sir Evas Dove, of Aldersfield House. Antonia Whitburn.' That won't waste the time of your clerks. You quite frightened me when you sent me the General's will The clerks must have racked their brains to find odd and useless words. Thank you a thousand times. I'll call the Fabers to sign it, but it's only in case of accidents. I've got lots more notions, and Uncle Evas doesn't want money. He's really quite nice about it, only he has to give in accounts."
"To give in accounts?"
"Yes, to Aunt Dove. She holds the purse-strings, uncle says, and there's a little breeze if he exceeds."
Mr. Staines thought he had better draw a veil over this part of the conversation, and very soon Toney's temporary will was signed and deposited in Mr. Staines' pocket, who thought as he journeyed back, "I never met such an extraordinary girl in all my life."
But it does not harm even a lawyer to think for a few minutes that money is not the aim of all mankind!
It was wonderful how soon Mrs. Faber reverted to the habits of her long bondage—though now she knew it was only an interlude—for Toney found her writing notes and doing flowers and being bullied by Lady Dove, just as if the beautiful reality of her wedded happiness did not exist. Mr. Faber had jogged off home in his pony carriage, Toney promising to bring back his dearest Anne as soon as Miss Grossman was able to return to public life. Toney watched him disappearing down the park as she stood alone on the steps of Aldersfield House, and as she looked at the lovely trees now turning every shade of gold, orange, and red, the Past and the Future appeared to her as two dream figures; the Past was a small, poorly clad beggar, and the Future a big, rich giant, but the beggar had a smile on his face and looked oh, so very happy, whilst the rich giant knitted his brows and looked down sadly on the ground.
"No, no," cried the girl, "the giant is blind and he doesn't see that he has only to give away all those gold brocaded clothes, and then he would be happy! He shan't be sorrowful, I won't let him!"
A little cold nose at that moment thrust itself into Toney's hand as it hung at her side, and a joyful bark brought her back to reality. She seized her beloved mongrel in her arms, whereupon he licked her face and showed that he understood her mood.
"Oh, Trick! Trick! we won't wear gold braid on our jackets and we won't let it make us feel sad. St. Francis said it was tremendously wrong to be sad, and so you are a real saint, Trick. You never are sad except when you have had a gnaw at new heels and have to be punished. We're getting old together, Trick; I'm twenty-one and I feel as if I were much, much older, or I should have done so if St. Francis hadn't come and given me such nice talks. He was just awfully fond of animals, Trick, so he must have been a very, very good man, but he loved his fellow-creatures best of all, so now you and I have both to seek and to find the 'Path of Perfection.'"
CHAPTER XI.