Lady Tamplin was very pleased and satisfied with life generally； but she had occasional faint preoccupations about money。
The button manufacturer had left his widow a considerable fortune； but； as Lady Tamplin was wont to say； 〃what with one thing and another …〃 （one thing being the depreciation of stocks owing to the war； and the other the extravagances of the late Lord Tamplin）。 She was still fortably off。 But to be merely fortably off is hardly satisfactory to one of Rosalie Tamplin's temperament。
So； on this particular January morning； she opened her blue eyes extremely wide as she read a certain item of news and uttered that nonmittal monosyllable 〃Well。〃
The only other occupant of the balcony was her daughter； the Hon Lenox Tamplin。 A daughter such as Lenox was a sad thorn in Lady Tamplin's side； a girl with no kind of tact； who actually looked older than her age； and whose peculiar sardonic form of humour was； to say the least of it； unfortable。
〃Darling；〃 said Lady Tamplin； 〃just fancy。〃
〃What is it？〃
Lady Tamplin picked up the Daily Mail； handed it to her daughter； and indicated with an agitated forefinger the paragraph of interest。
Lenox read it without any of the signs of agitation shown by her mother。 She handed back the paper。
〃What about it？〃 she asked。 〃It is the sort of thing that is always happening。 Cheeseparing old women are always dying in villages and leaving fortunes of millions to their humble pani