In the evening, when John Ball,—or Jack, as he was called in the family,—had left the drawing-room, and the old man was alone with his son, they discussed the position of Margaret Mackenzie.

“You’ll find she has taken up with the religious people there,” said the father.

“It’s just what she would do,” said the son.

“They’re the greatest thieves going. When once they have got their eyes upon money, they never take them off again.”

“She’s not been there long enough yet to give any one a hold upon her.”

“I don’t know that, John; but, if you’ll take my advice, you’ll find out the truth at once. She has no children, and if you’ve made up your mind about it, you’ll do no good by delay.”

“She’s a very nice woman, in her way.”

“Yes, she’s nice enough. She’s not a beauty; eh, John? and she won’t set the Thames on fire.”

“I don’t wish her to do so; but I think she’d look after the girls, and do her duty.”

“I dare say; unless she has taken to run after prayer-meetings every hour of her life.”

“They don’t often do that after they’re married, sir.”

“Well; I know nothing against her. I never thought much of her brothers, and I never cared to know them. One’s dead now, and as for the other, I don’t suppose he need trouble you much. If you’ve made up your mind about it, I think you might as well ask her at once.” From all which it may be seen that Miss Mackenzie had been invited to the Cedars with a direct object on the part of Mr Ball.

But though the old gentleman thus strongly advised instant action, nothing was done during Christmas week, nor had any hint been given up to the end of the year. John Ball, however, had not altogether lost his time, and had played the part of middle-aged lover better than might have been expected from one the whole tenor of whose life was so thoroughly unromantic. He did manage to make himself pleasant to Miss Mackenzie, and so far ingratiated himself with her that he won much of her confidence in regard to money matters.

“But that’s a very large sum of money?” he said to her one day as they were sitting together in his father’s study. He was alluding to the amount which she had lent to Messrs Rubb and Mackenzie, and had become aware of the fact that as yet Miss Mackenzie held no security for the loan. “Two thousand five hundred pounds is a very large sum of money.”

“But I’m to get five per cent, John.” They were first cousins, but it was not without some ceremonial difficulty that they had arrived at each other’s Christian names.

“My dear Margaret, their word for five per cent is no security. Five per cent is nothing magnificent. A lady situated as you are should never part with her money without security—never: but if she does, she should have more than five per cent.”