es are very large," went on Paula. "I owe Mr. Ricaby an
enormous sum."

"We'll examine his accounts carefully and decide," echoed Jimmy.

"No," said Paula decisively, "his accounts will not be examined
carefully. They will be paid without question--and without delay."

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll--we won't discuss that point now."

"We won't discuss that point now," echoed Jimmy. Turning to her
attorney, he said: "Mr. Ricaby, you will turn over all the papers
referring to this or any other matter that Miss Marsh may be interested
in--as in future Mr. Cooley will be her counsel and legal adviser."

"Indeed!" cried Paula.

"Yes, my dear girl," said her uncle; "it would be rather inconvenient to
have more than one legal adviser in the family. In fact, it will be
impossible--quite impossible."

Paula shook her head.

"Mr. Ricaby is my friend--the only friend I have in the world," she
said.

"That's rather a pity," answered Jimmy, with a feeble attempt at irony.
He turned to Mr. Cooley and the lawyer shook his head. Jimmy went on:

"I am very sorry, Paula, but that doesn't alter the position. It's the
one point I'm afraid I must insist on."

Paula turned to her attorney.

"Mr. Ricaby, will you kindly tell these gentlemen that our interview is
at an end?"

Jimmy started forward.

"Paula! My dear niece----"

"I have nothing further to say," answered Paula coldly.

"Paula--won't you listen?"

"Please ask them to go," she repeated.

"Won't you reconsider?" cried her uncle. "I express my sincere regret
for any annoyance I may have caused you."

She smiled bitterly. All the hate that she had nourished in her heart
against this man was now heated to boiling point. Vehemently she burst
out:

"I expect to suffer through coming in contact with a mean, mercenary
nature like yours," she cried, "that's the penalty I pay for being 'your
dear niece.' What I cannot understand and what I cannot forgive is your
cruelty in blackening my dead father's memory--to stamp your own brother
a lunatic and drunkard! Why, it's--it's horrible! Even the love of money
in a degenerate age doesn't explain that. And my dead mother! Her name
had to be dishonored, that I might be stamped as illegitimate. No
accusation too scandalous, too shameful, or too degrading, could be
made--because I had come between you and this miserable money!" Shaking
her clenched fist in his face, she cried: "But you'll never get it,
Uncle