"I entirely agree," said Jenny Ironsyde. "I can go further and declare
from personal knowledge that my brother had shadowed the idea in his
mind."

They both regarded Daniel.

"Then leave it there," he bade them, "leave it there and I'll think it
out. My father was the fairest man I ever met, and I'll try and be as
fair. It's up to Raymond more than me."

"You can bring a horse to the water, though you can't make him drink,"
admitted Mr. Churchouse. "But if you bring your horse to the water,
you've done all that reason and sense may ask you to do."

Miss Ironsyde, from larger knowledge of the circumstances, felt disposed
to carry the question another step. She opened her mouth and drew in her
breath to speak--making that little preliminary sound only audible when
nothing follows it. But she did not speak.

"Come into the garden and see Magnolia grandiflora," said Mr.
Churchouse. "There are twelve magnificent blossoms open this morning,
and I should have picked every one of them for my dear friend's grave,
only the direction was clear, that there were to be no flowers."

"Henry disliked any attempt to soften the edges at such a time,"
explained the dead man's sister. "He held that death was the skeleton at
the feast of life--a wholesome and stark reminder to the thoughtless
living that the grave is the end of our mortal days. He liked a funeral
to be a funeral--black--black. He did not want the skeleton at the feast