The Corbin necklace

of some thousands of acres of the best land in Illinois—chased the Indians off it, I suppose—and built his first house out of bricks that he made on the place. His son, Punch’s grandfather, inherited the whole thing. He may have been able enough, though I suspect the line was thinning out. Anyhow, the most important thing about him is the woman he married. I haven’t an idea who, in the social sense, she was. But certainly for the past fifty years or so she has been a tremendous person. She had two sons—she’d probably have had a dozen but for her husband’s untimely death. She completely dominated the elder, Punch’s father, and quarreled violently with the younger one, Alexander—she quarreled with everybody she couldn’t dominate—so that he ran away, fought in the Spanish War, went out to the Philippines and stayed there. John married Victoria Ashcroft; he died two or three months before Punch was born. Judy remembers him, of course, and adores his memory. It’s one of the reasons, perhaps, why she doesn’t get on better with her mother. The proceeding years never softened up the old lady a bit. Her husband’s will left the whole fortune in her hands, and she has used it remorselessly as a club to enforce submission to her ideas. In the main I think her ideas have been pretty sound—certainly her business judgment has always been above reproach—but they aren’t Victoria’s ideas in the least. It’s hard to imagine a more difficult position than that of being old Mrs. Corbin’s daughter-in-law. The famous necklace affords an illustration. As an adornment it has long been useless to the old lady. She’s been crippled with arthritis for years, living, from somewhere about dawn till nine o’clock at night, in a wheel chair. Victoria used to wear the necklace frequently. Pearls, I believe, and especially old pearls, need wear. And the thing was popularly supposed to be hers. But between the old lady and Victoria there was never any ambiguity about it. The mother-in-law kept tabs on it most jealously; decreed when it should be worn and when it should not, and kept it most of the time in her possession. She has never liked Victoria, has often openly mistrusted her, and it was easy to believe that her decision to give the