For John became aware of the girl who had been standing beside the door, unnoticed. When all were gone, she stepped in lightly.
"Mrs. Haveril," she said—"I ought to call you Cousin Alice, but I am afraid you have had cousins enough. My name is Pennefather—Molly Pennefather."
"Why, I was a Pennefather—same as Charles, who's just gone out, and the ragged wretch who was Cousin Alfred."
"Yes; and others of the truly dreadful people who have just gone out. I don't know any of them. Fortunately, they wouldn't have anything to do with my poor old dad, because he disgraced the family and went on the stage. If they hadn't been so haughty, I might have had to know them now."
"Your father? Is he Willy Pennefather?"
"He was. But he died five years ago."
"He died? Poor Willy! Oh, John, if you'd known my cousin Will! How clever he was! And how bright! Dead, is he?"
"He was never a great success, you know, because he couldn't settle down. And at last he died. And I—— Well, I'm studying for the stage myself."
"Oh, you are Willy's daughter! My dear, you look straight. But there's been such a self-seeking——"
"I don't want your money, indeed!"