earned that your Aunt Jane is rated as worth a
half million dollars."

"They shall be mine," said the daughter, with assurance. "Unless,
indeed, the De Graf girl is most wonderfully clever. What is her
name?"

"Elizabeth, if I remember rightly. But I am not sure she is yet alive,
my dear. I haven't heard of the De Grafs for a dozen years.'"

"Anyway I shall accept my Aunt Jane's invitation, and make the
acceptance as sweet as Patricia Doyle's refusal is sour. Aunt Jane
will be simply furious when she gets the little hair-dresser's note."

"Will you send it on?"

"Why not? It's only a question of resealing the envelope and mailing
it. And it will be sure to settle Miss Doyle's chances of sharing the
inheritance, for good and all."

"And the check?"

"Oh, I shall leave the check inside the envelope. It wouldn't be at
all safe to cash it, you know."

"But if you took it out Jane would think the girl had kept tit money,
after all, and would be even more incensed against her."

"No," said Louise, after a moment's thought, "I'll not do a single act
of dishonesty that could ever by any chance be traced to my door. To
be cunning, to be diplomatic, to play the game of life with the best
cards we can draw, is every woman's privilege. But if I can't win
honestly, mater dear, I'll quit the game, for even money can't
compensate a girl for the loss of her self-respect."

Mrs. Merrick cast a fleeting glance at her daughter and smiled.
Perhaps the heroics of Louise did not greatly impress her.

CHAPTER V.

AUNT JANE.

"Lift me up, Phibbs--no, not that way! Confound your awkwardness--do
you want to break my back? There! That's better. Now the pillow at my
head. Oh--h. What are you blinking at, you old owl?"

"Are you better this morning, Miss Jane?" asked the attendant, with
grave deference.

"No; I'm worse."

"You look brighter, Miss Jane."

"Don't be stupid, Martha Phibbs. I know how I am, better than any
doctor, and I tell you I'm on my last legs."

"Anything unusual, Miss?"

"Of course. I can't be on my last legs regularly, can I?"

"I hope not, Miss."

"What do you mean by that? Are you trying to insult me, now that I'm
weak and helpless? Answer me, you gibbering idiot!"

"I'm sure you'll feel better soon, Miss. Can't I wheel you into the
garden? It's a beautiful day, and quite sunny and warm already."

"Be quick about it, then; and don't tire me out with your eternal
doddering. When a thing