They all looked up, however, as a shadow crossed the sunlight from the front windows and portly Majesta Best walked in, followed, a pace or two behind, by her thin apologetic husband, Uncle Pemberton Best. Majesta Best was a younger sister of Petra Holbrook and her rival in every way.

“Oh,” said Petra, somewhat haughtily, “Pemberton, Majesta, I didn’t suppose you’d be able to get away this morning; you took home so many cousins from back in the country after the funeral yesterday. Have they gone so soon? I was hoping some of them could come to dinner.”

“Oh no,” said Majesta, sinking comfortably into an ample armchair, “they’re staying over the weekend. You’ll have plenty of time to invite them, Petra. But I know my duty, and I told them frankly I’d have to be over here and do what I could to look after my dear dead niece’s children.”

“You needn’t have felt that way, Majesta,” said Petra. “There are plenty of us here to plan for the children, and we would all have understood that you were taking care of the cousins. But we’re all here now, aren’t we? I mean, of course, the more active ones. The uncles are all here, at least, aren’t they, Adrian?”

Adrian looked around him. “Why, no, I believe Blakefield hasn’t come yet.”

“Blakefield!” chorused the aunts. And then Petra: “But what does he matter? Of course, he wouldn’t have a voice in saying what should be done with the children!”

“You must remember, Petra,” said Adrian, “that Blakefield is an uncle of John Graeme, and one might almost say a favorite uncle,” he added in a half-offended tone. “Of course, I never have felt that Blakefield was practical. Still, we have to give him the courtesy of an invitation. John always did think a great deal of his uncle Blakefield. Perhaps because he was John’s father’s twin brother.”

“Yes,” sighed Aunt Petra, “of course, John always was quite sentimental about everything, and his father dying so young and all, I suppose he felt that Blake was a little nearer to him than any of the others. And, of course, it’s all right for Blakefield to be here and sit in on this conference, but he can’t be expected to really do anything. He hasn’t been so awfully successful in business, has he? And now being an unmarried man he couldn’t be expected to give any of the children a home. But I did expect Agatha Lane to be here. She has plenty of money and room and servants, and no husband to interfere, and being Miriam’s only wealthy relative, she ought to do something handsome. She ought to be depended upon to take over the two younger children. She has nothing in the world to do but amuse herself, and she always pretended to think the world and all of her niece Miriam. There! Didn’t I hear another horn? Isn’t that her car, Adrian?”

Aunt Petra got up and sailed to the front window. “Yes, it is! There’s Agatha now! Well, I’m glad she’s come. Now, if the lawyer were only here we could get started at once.”

Aunt Agatha Lane—slim, youngish, elegant—entered languidly, inclined her graceful body in a bow that included them all, and dropped dramatically to the end of a couch. She was a widow, well made-up, with threadlike eyebrows, delicately flushed complexion, and a cloud of golden hair, done in a long golden bob that gave her the appearance of at least half her age.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come, Agatha,” said Aunt Petra, raising her deep voice so that it could be clearly heard over the large room and penetrate even to the adjoining library. The library opened in a vista from one end of the living room, and Jennifer Graeme had taken refuge there behind heavy drawn curtains. She had been weeping her young heart out for her adored parents and was miserable now over what she considered the intrusion of all these relatives. Why did they want to come here at this time when she wanted to be alone? What right had they, she asked herself pitifully, as she curled more deeply into a great leather chair and stuffed her little damp handkerchief against her mouth to still her sobs.

But Aunt Petra’s voice came sharply through the curtains. “Yes, Agatha, I certainly am glad you are here! For, you see, you will have to play quite an important part in the plans we have to make. It has seemed to me from the very first that you would be the ideal one to take over the two youngest children, or one of them at least. You have more leisure than anyone else, and it would be just a pleasure for you to bring them up and plan their future.”

“Oh mercy!” said Agatha Lane, suddenly rousing from her languor.