ion of taking himself so seriously
that he is a nervous wreck on account of his convictions. I wouldn't
have asked him for the world. In the first place, Mrs. Black would
have thought it very queer, and in the second place he was so hopping
mad about that fair, and having me buy it, that he wouldn't have been
agreeable. I don't blame him. I would feel just so in his place. It
must be frightful to be a poor minister."

"None too pleasant, anyway."

"You are right, it certainly is not. I have been poor myself, and I
know. I went to my room, and looked out of the window, and it was so
perfectly beautiful outdoors, and I did want to see how this place
looked by moonlight, so I just went down the back stairs and came
alone. I hope nobody will break in while I am gone. I left the door
unlocked."

"No burglars live in Brookville," said Jim. "Mighty good reasons for
none to come in, too."

"What reasons?"

"Not a blessed thing to burgle. Never has been for years."

There was a silence. The girl spoke in a hushed voice.
"I--understand," said she, "that the people here hold the man who
used to live in this house responsible for that."

"Why, yes, I suppose he was. Brookville never would have been a
Tuxedo under any circumstances, but I reckon it would have fared a
little better if Mr. Bolton hadn't failed to see the difference
between mine and thine. I was nothing but a kid, but I have heard a
good deal about it. Some of the older people are pretty bitter, and
some of the younger ones have it in their veins. I suppose the poor
man did start us down hill."

"You say 'poor man'; why?" asked the girl and her voice trembled.

"Lord, yes. I'm like a hound sneaking round back doors for bones, on
account of Mr. Bolton, myself. My father lost more than 'most
anybody, but I wouldn't change places with the man. Say, do you know
he has been in State's Prison for years?"

"Yes."

"Of course any man who does wrong is a poor man, even if he doesn't
get caught. I'm mighty glad I wasn't born bitter as some of the
people here were. My sister Fanny isn't either. She doesn't have
much, poor girl, but I've never heard her say one word, and mother
never blames it on Mr. Bolton, either. Mother says he is getting his
punishment, and it isn't for any of us to add to it."

"Your sister was that pretty girl at the flower table?"

"Yes--I suppose you would call her pretty. I don't really know. A
fellow never does know, when the girl is hi