that were deep-set, were an honest gray, although her hair (she had a wealth of it) was so dark as to be almost black. There was something in her face that resembled Hollingsworth, but in the resemblance a great deal of the pride and the look of rather sneering superiority had been eliminated. Little Miss Bliss, who was walking beside her, was a pretty girl, with that prettiness that is most attractive in the days of early womanhood, and that is prone to change as the spirits are dashed by years or trouble. Her hair curled in a roll above the prominent forehead. Her eyebrows were exquisitely drawn, and as delicate as the lines of a brush stroke.
"What is the matter with your brother to-day?" inquired Miss Bliss, looking up at the tall girl, whose shoulder was about even with the top of her head.
Miss Hollingsworth turned.
"He is awfully grumpy for some reason or other," she replied. " Probably sat up too late."
The truth was Mr. Kenmore Hollingsworth had been sitting up too late for a good many nights in succession, and to-day he was rather
