the most
dismal sort of prognostications.

And they all came true, too. Something unfortunate beyond all expectations
came to pass during the glee club's visit to Chicago, and the result was
that, before the new year was well out of its incubator Jack had papers in
a breach-of-promise suit served on him. He wrote Mr. Stebbins that it was
all a joke, and had merely been a portion of that foam which a train of
youthful spirits are apt to leave in their wake; but the girl stood solid
for her rights, and, as she had never heard from her fiance since the
night of the dance, her family--who were rural, but sharp--thought it would
take at least fifteen thousand dollars to patch the crack in her heart. If
the news could have been kept from Aunt Mary until after Mr. Stebbins had
looked into the matter, everything might have resulted differently. But
the Chicago lawyer who had the case took good care that the wealthy aunt
knew all as quickly as possible, and it seemed as if this was the final
straw under which the camel must succumb.

And Aunt Mary did appear to waver.

"Fifteen thousand dollars!" she cried, aghast. "Heaven help us! What
next?"

It was Lucinda who was seated calmly opposite at this crisis.

"Do you suppose he really did it?" the aunt continued, after a minute of
appalled consideration.

"It's about the only thing he ain't never done," the tried and true
servant answered, her tone more gratingly penetrative than ever.

Aunt Mary eyed her sharply, not to say furiously.

"I wish you'd give a plain answer when I ask you a plain question,
Lucinda," she said coldly. "If you'd ever got a breach-of-promise suit in
the early mail you'd know how I feel. Perhaps--probably."

"I ain't a doubt but what he done it," Lucinda screamed out; "an' if I was
her an' he wouldn't marry me after sayin' he would I'd sue him for a
hundred thousand, an' think I let him off cheap then."

Aunt Mary deigned to smile faintly over the subtlety of this speech; but
the next minute she was frowning blacker than ever.

"A girl from Kalamazoo, too, just up in Chicago for a week--just up in
Chicago long enough to come down on me for fifteen thousand dollars."

"Maybe she'll take five thousand instead," Lucinda remarked.

"Maybe!" ejaculated her mistress, in fine scorn. "Maybe! Well, if you
don't talk as if money was sweet peas an' would dry up if it wasn't
picked!"

Lucinda screwed up her face.

Aunt Mary gave her one awful look.