and was standing over him in an indignant attitude, one hand thrust in the pocket of her natty jacket, while with the other she grasped firmly the brim of her large black hat, under which her eyes shone with a peculiar, soft splendor. Farebrother thought then that he had never seen her pale, piquant beauty to greater advantage.
"But if you could for one moment take your mind off Miss Maywood, and consider my grievances," said she, tartly. "Can you imagine anything more odious? Here is Mr. Romaine pretending—for I don't believe it 's anything but that he is trying to make a fool of me—pretending, I say, that he means to leave me a fortune some day—and he is just perverse enough to ignore any objection I may make, not only to his plans, but to himself—for I assure you, I really dislike him, although I pity him, too. Then suppose he dies and does leave me the money! You never heard of such tribes of poor relations as he has, in your life, and all of them, as grandpapa says, have counted on Mr. Romaine's money for forty years. He has one niece—as poor as poverty, with nine—shoeless—hatless—shabby children—who has actually conde-
