Bright Arrows (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

she had been afraid of his cruel jokes and petty torments. When her father found it out, he removed her from his vicinity, taking her far away with himself on a journey till the obnoxious boy and his still more unpleasant mother had moved to a far city, with other interests.

      He was not exactly a relative, just the son by a former marriage of a woman who had married her uncle a few years before his death. But he called himself her cousin, though it was not a blood relationship.

      And now suddenly he was standing in the doorway looking at her with that gloating glitter in his eyes, masked by his old insinuating smile. How did he get in? The servants had locked up for the night. The night latch was on the door always. He had no key, and never had had one. Something cold and frightening clutched her heart.

      For an instant they surveyed each other, and then the young man spoke:

      "Eden! You lovely thing! You are more stunning looking than ever! I certainly am glad I came!"

      Eden lifted her chin haughtily, and there was no answering smile on her young lips. She tried to summon all her self-possession and spoke in a voice of cool distance.

      "Oh, you are Ellery Fane," she said.

      "The same," said the young man, his hand on his heart and bowed low. "I am flattered that you remember me. And now that I am recognized, may I sit down? For I have something to tell you. I won't interrupt you long for I see you are going over important business papers. I'll be glad to help you if you think you are equal to doing them to-night after such a strenuous day as you must have had."

      Eden suddenly remembered the dear letter she held in her hand, and with a quick motion she lowered the pages out of sight down in her lap. Then with swift, stealthy fingers, she folded the letter softly and slid it into the drawer, snapping the drawer shut and turning the key softly. Her experiences in the past with this slippery, would-be cousin had proved to her that nothing precious was to be trusted in his sight. Instinct had taught her this from her first knowledge of him when she was a mere child.

      So, as he talked on with his insinuating voice tuned low, obviously on account of her recent sorrow, her fingers were swiftly at work extracting the little key and folding it close in her hand. Then she lifted her eyes haughtily to meet his insinuating gaze.

       "Thank you, I do not need help," she said coldly. "I feel that your coming, especially so stealthily and at this time, is an intrusion. But since you are here, what is it you want? I am in no need of help at present, and certainly not from you, when I remember under what circumstances you left this house last, at my father's request."

      "Oh, now Eden, you're surely not holding that against me. I was merely a boy then, and I did make a mistake or two in my accounts at the bank. Of course, I've learned better now, and I suppose I ought to be grateful to your father for being so severe with me. It taught me a much-needed lesson. I've forgiven him long ago, of course, and started out to be a real man, the kind of man he wanted me to be. I've been studying high finance and am really an expert now, and I felt it was not only my duty but my pleasure to come and offer you my advice and skill in settling your estate. Of course, you are inexperienced, my dear, and I have an idea there will be many things about business that will be most puzzling to you. I'll be glad to put my financial knowledge and abilities at your disposal. I have several letters with me that will show you I am all that I say in these lines and certainly will be greatly to your advantage to have my advice."

      Eden's voice was still cool and quiet in spite of her mounting anger, and she looked him in the eye steadily.

      "That will be entirely unnecessary," she said coldly. "Such matters have all been attended to satisfactorily, and I have no need for advice. My father arranged everything for me before he left me."

      "Yes, of course, I understand he would," soothed the honeyed voice. "He was always kindness itself and thoughtful, most thoughtful, for the welfare of others. But, my dear, I had not been in his bank long, even when I was a mere lad, before I knew perfectly well how unworldly he was, and how almost criminally ignorant he was of the best ways of managing a fortune and making the most of what he had, you know. As I began my studies and went on to wider knowledge, I kept looking back to what I knew of your father's business matters, and I knew what advantages he was missing by some of his oddly fanatical ideas about right and wrong that were simply nonsensical. And so I thought that it was my duty to come and tell you what I had learned in the world of finance and offer to set matters right for you, so that you might become almost fabulously rich in your own right. It will merely mean straightening out a few matters and exchanging some of your father's foolish investments before it is too late."

      Eden, white with anger, rose from her chair, the little key clutched tight in the palm of her hand, the other hand leaning hard on the edge of her father's desk, her eyes flashing indignation.

      "That will be all I care to hear," she said freezingly. "You can go now. I certainly want no help from you ever, in any way!"

      Eden in her excitement did not realize that her fingers had automatically touched the little switch on the edge of the desk by which her father had often called for the old butler to do some errand for him. But suddenly the bell responded quickly through the silent house, making the unwelcome guest start in surprise and look cautiously around. That bell was something he had not known about, as it had been installed after he had left that part of the country. But Eden was so coldly angry now that she paid little heed to the bell. Besides, she thought that the servants had all gone to their rooms and were probably asleep. And she was not really afraid of this would-be cousin, anyway, just furious at his insufferable impudence toward her wonderful father. She felt that she could handle this situation herself. She would let him know that he was not wanted.

      But the young man sat, still watching her intently.

      "You don't understand, my dear! I mean all this in utter kindness. That is why my mother and I talked it over and decided that she and I would give up everything else and devote ourselves to you. Mother will arrive on the early train in the morning. She had to come from the far West, you know, and could not get here in time for the service to-day, but we talked it over on the telephone and arranged it all. Mother is coming here to live with you and chaperone you of course. You could not think of living here alone. It would not be respectable. Your father would never approve of that, I'm sure, and so it was up to your nearest relatives to come to your rescue—"

      "Stop!" said Eden, tense with anger now. "I do not wish to have either you or your mother here, and besides, I have other arrangements—"

      "Oh, really? Who is going to stay with you?"

      "I don't wish to discuss the matter with you, either now or at any other time. My affairs are my own, and you have nothing to do with them. If you will leave at once, that will be all I shall ask of you."

      The door into the hall had opened so quietly that neither of them realized that there were two other people standing in the room. It was the old butler who spoke firmly–his old voice sounded almost as young again as when he first began to serve his beloved employer.

      "You rang, my lady," he said, standing at attention, with even his white gloves on his hands, giving an air of formality to his hastily donned uniform.

      And just a step behind him, to one side, stood old Janet, her eyes wide and angry, her lips shut thinly and her hands folded flatly across her stomach in her most formal servantly humility, just as she had been accustomed to serve all her life.

      The young man stood up, startled into embarrassed awkwardness for an instant. But he quickly rallied to what he called his "poise"–though there had been others who called it merely "brass"–and smiled an ingratiating smile.

      "My word!" he said with a note of forced delight in his voice. "If there isn't dear old Janet. Alive yet! I remember how I used to delight in her gingerbread and chocolate cakes. And old Tabor, as faithful as ever. Say, this is a wonder. Eden you ought to–"

      But Eden was talking in a clear, firm voice that cut like a knife through Ellery Fane's paltry prattle.

      "Yes, Tabor, I'm glad you came. Will you kindly see this person to the door, and make sure that every door and window is carefully