id I ever offend you with principles?"

Miss Bancroft poured herself another cup of tea, and laid a second
piece of bread-and-butter neatly on the side of her saucer.

"Come," said Mr. Prescott, with a keen glance at her. "Come, it's not
like you, Elizabeth, to beat about the bush. What can this matter be
which you find so difficult to broach in plain English?"

Miss Bancroft hesitated a moment. It touched her vanity to be accused
of beating about the bush, since she took an especial pride in her
reputation of being a woman who never minced matters, and who always
made a direct and fearless attack.

Then she said, simply:

"I came to talk to you about--George's daughters, Tom."

There was a short silence.

"It's not like you, Elizabeth, to--to touch upon a matter so very
delicate," remarked Mr. Prescott, quietly, his lips tightening
slightly. "Of course I can understand how my attitude in regard to
them must appear to you, but I fancied that there existed between you
and me a silent agreement that this was one subject which was never to
be mentioned."

"My dear Tom, you know that under ordinary circumstances I am not an
interfering woman; therefore you must realize that I should never have
spoken of this to you without the best of reasons for doing so. But I
feel that you are allowing certain principles, excellent no doubt in
themselves, but wrong in your particular application to them, to thwart
your own happiness; to say nothing of depriving others of the
advantages which it is in your power to bestow." Miss Bancroft was
very serious now. As she spoke she leaned over and laid her fat little
hand earnestly on the old man's shabby sleeve. He said nothing, and
she continued:

"There are two young girls, charming--beautiful, indeed--the daughters
of a man you loved far more even than most fathers love their
first-born sons----"

"Don't!" exclaimed Mr. Prescott, sharply, almost fiercely. "Don't
speak to me of that, Elizabeth. Can't you realize that just to mention
my--George recalls all my old rancor against that little, heartless
spendthrift who ruined him--_killed_ him----" his voice rose hoarsely,
then making an effort to control himself, he went on in a quieter tone:

"It's very difficult for me to discuss this with you, Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry, Tom. But you have no right to--it's a matter of your own
happiness as much as theirs--and I would be no friend of yours if I
were not willing and anxi