smelling-salts. The old lady was in a rude state of health, but had not walked a step alone for several years. As she entered, Harley behind her, old Mr. Bowdoin gravely and ostentatiously pulled out a silver dollar and put it into the hand of the surprised young man.
"Pass it to the account," said he.
Harley took the coin, and, detecting a wink, checked his expression of surprise.
"It all goes into the fund, my dear, to be given to your favorite charity the first time you are down in time for breakfast. It amounts to several thousand dollars already."
Mrs. Bowdoin snorted, but, with a too visible effort, only asked Harley whether he would take coffee or tea.
"With accumulations, my dear,—with accumulations. But you should not address me from your carriage in that yellow shawl, when I am talking to a stranger on the Common. At least, I thought it was Tom Pinckney, of the Providence Bank, but it turned out to be a stranger. He took me for a bunco-steerer."
"James!"
"He did indeed, and you for my confeder-
