or at
dinner, and when Mrs. Paxton, with elaborate interest, inquired for her,
she learned that the lady had left very early that morning, before any
guests were on the piazza to see her depart.

It certainly did seem odd that she should have left, without a word to
those whom she had known, but Mrs. Dainty, with her customary good
taste, made no comment, and Aunt Charlotte Grayson was equally silent.

Mrs. Paxton did just as one might have expected. She expressed, in a
very loud voice, her disgust at being thus pointedly slighted, for so
she chose to feel.

"After all my friendliness, I can't see how she could leave the
Cleverton without so much as a word to me. Why, I felt almost like a
relative, as my name was Fenton before I married!"

"I guess Mrs. Fenton didn't have what you might call a family feeling,"
said old Mr. Cunningham, which so angered Mrs. Paxton that she politely
turned her back.

Two letters arrived at the Cleverton that afternoon, and it would be
difficult to say which caused the greater surprise.

Mrs. Paxton told the contents of hers to all who would listen, and there
were enough who were curious, to make a good audience.

"TO MRS. CLARA FENTON PAXTON:" it began, refraining from any endearing
terms.

"I knew, before I met you, that you and your small daughter were related
to my husband, and also knew that he entertained no admiration for you.
He left his entire estate to me, and as you were but a distant relative,
you could expect no inheritance. However, with a determination to deal
fairly with all my kin (I have but three such), I came to the Cleverton
to see you and your little daughter, intending, if she proved
sweet-tempered and attractive, to will my property to her. She is the
only one of the three relatives who bears my husband's name.

"I do not wish to be harsh, but I am forced to admit that I find her to
be bold, naturally unkind, and wholly lacking in the grace and courtesy
which most children possess, either by training or inheritance.

"I, therefore, have made my will in favor of Nancy Ferris, once a little
waif, now a sweet, gentle, and attractive child, whose little acts of
courtesy and kindness are fully appreciated by

"Her friend,
"CECILIA CULLEN FENTON."

"A most singular woman, to leave her property to a waif, a child of the
theatre, and not bequeath so much as a penny to my Floretta, wh