"It's a long story," I said weakly.
"Oh," Mabel walked up to me, "then there is a story. Just you tell it." She sat down with a determined air. "I don't move from here until I know how Mr. Marr's photograph comes to be here under the name of Mr. Monk."
There was no help for it. I had to speak out and make the best I could of a most uncomfortable situation. "Mr. Walter Monk goes by that name in Burwain," I blurted out, "but in London he is known as Mr. Wentworth Marr."
"Well I never!" Mabel drew a long breath and looked at Gertrude, who had sat down, and was staring hard at me.
"Why has my father two names?" she asked apprehensively.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong," I said hastily, "he is Wentworth Marr by Act of Parliament."
"Perhaps he is a millionaire also by Act of Parliament," said Mabel sarcastically. "Can you say that he is, Cyrus?"
"Papa is not a millionaire," put in Gertrude hastily. "All he has is this house and five hundred a year."
"Oh," Mabel drew another long breath, "and he gave Aunt Lucy to understand that he was a rich man."
"Did he give her to understand that he was actually a millionaire?" I asked.