I’ve picked ’em because they’ll be handy. Now for number seven, John. I’ve got his grandson, Jeremy Taverner- regular soldier-Captain Jeremy Taverner. Then there’s number eight, Acts-old Jeremiah took all his children’s names out of the Bible-I’ve picked a granddaughter of his, name of Jane Heron. She’s in a shop-tries on the dresses and walks round in ’em so the fat old women and scraggy old maids think they’re going to look like she does. There’s twice at least this afternoon you’ve called me mad, John Taylor, but I’m not so mad as the women who go to dress shows and buy the clothes off a girl with a figure they probably never had and certainly don’t have now. Well, that’s the lot, and I’m off into the next room. Here’s the family tree to keep you straight. By the way, the Castells won’t be coming. I’ve my own private arrangement with them, and they’re down at the inn. The others are just about due.

Amusing to see who comes first, don’t you think? Might be the one that’s hardest up-but then sometimes that sort’s proud. Poverty, greed, or maybe just plain punctuality-any one of the three might bring ’em here on the dot. Now you get those chairs set out so that I can look and listen, and you ask ’ em what I told you to ask ’em, and tell ’ em what I told you to tell ’em. And devil take the hindmost!”

CHAPTER 3

A young clerk opened the door and announced,

“Miss Taverner-”

Mildred Taverner took a poking look at the room with its nine empty chairs and came in rather after the manner of an early Christian entering the arena. To be sure, John Taylor would have hardly fluttered the nerves of the most timid martyr, but Miss Taverner became immediately so tied up in explanation and apology that it is doubtful if she noticed his round face, his bald head, or any of the other features which might have had a reassuring effect.