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 Mr. Johns gave a familiar grunt. "Better find out who owns the school first," he said.

"Who owns it?" said Austin, sharply.

Mr. Johns read on; it was his moment of triumph. He was reading so hard that he did not see the swift approach of his granddaughter, who snatched the magazine from his hands.

"Tell us what you mean, grandfather," she said, sternly. "Supposed you knew—thought you young people knew everything."

"Tell us what you mean. Doesn't Austin own this school?" Mr. Johns shook his head: "The will's found—Miss Hayes," was all he said.

It was a blow, particularly to Austin, but Elise rallied at once.

"All right, then, grandfather, you've got to give him that job you promised."

"Nothing of the kind—don't trust him—don't want him working for me."

"Grandfather," said Elise, sternly, "I heard you tell Mrs. Rolles at supper the other night that his financial future was assured. You said that he had flare—creative genius, and that when you saw that sort of thing you snapped it up—"

"I've changed my mind," said Mr. Johns,