"What?" demanded Mr. Letts.

"The furniture I told you about," said Mrs. Green. "The furniture that
your poor father thought such a lot of, because it used to belong to his
grandfather. He's selling it to Simpson, though I begged and prayed him
not to."

Mr. Letts encouraged himself with a deep cough. "My furniture?" he
demanded.

Mrs. Green took courage. "Yes," she said, hope-fully; "your father left
it to you."

Mr. Letts, carrying his head very erect, took a firmer grip of their arms
and gazed steadily at a disagreeable-looking man who was eying them in
some astonishment from the doorway. With arms still linked they found
the narrow gateway somewhat difficult, but they negotiated it by a
turning movement, and, standing in the front garden, waited while Mrs.
Green tried to find her voice.

[Illustration: "A disagreeable-looking man was eying them in some
astonishment from the doorway."]

"Jack," she said at last, "this is your stepfather."

Mr. Letts, in some difficulty as to the etiquette on such occasions,
released his right arm and extended his hand.

"Good-evening, stepfather," he said, cheerfully.