eplied,
"Well, he can't have me!"

With the opposition in her daughter's tone, Mrs. Gilman was suddenly
moved to argue.

"Think what it means, Bertie! He's rich. Did you know that? He owns two
mines."

"I know he is a gambler and runs two saloons. You see, the boys keep me
posted, and I'm not marrying a gambler--not this summer," she ended,
decisively.

"But he's going to give that up, he says." He hadn't said this, but she
was sure he would. "His income is a hundred thousand dollars a year.
Think of that!"

"I don't want to think of it," the girl answered, frowning slightly. "It
makes my head ache. Nobody has a right to so much money. How did he get
it?"

"Out of his mine--and oh, Bertie, he says if you'll speak the word we
needn't do another day's work in this hot, greasy old place! The house
is his, anyway. Did you know that?"

Bertha eyed her mother closely--with cool, bright, accusing eyes--for a
moment, then she softened. "Poor old mammy, it's pretty tough lines on
you--no two ways about that. You've got the heavy end of the job. I'd
marry most anybody to give you a rest--but, mother, Captain Haney is
forty, if he's a day, and he's a hard citizen. He has been a gambler all
his life. You can't expect me to marry a sport like him. And then
there's Ed."

The mother's face changed. "A barber!" she exclaimed, scornfully.

"Yes, he's a barber now, but he's going to make a break soon and get
into something else."

"Don't bank on Ed, Bertie; he'll never be anything more than he is now.
No man ever got anywhere who started in as a barber."

"Would you rather I married a gambler and a sure-shot? They tell me
Haney has killed his man."

"That may be all talk. Well, anyhow, he wants to see you and talk it
over; and oh, Bertie, it does seem a wonderful chance--and my heart's so
bad to-day it seems as though I couldn't see to another meal! I don't
want you to marry him if you don't want to--I'm not asking you to. You
know I'm not. But he is a noble-looking man--and I get awfully
discouraged sometimes. It scares me to think of dying and leaving you
without any security."

One of the waiters, half-dead with curiosity, was edging near, under
pretense of brushing the table, and so the mistress rose and took up the
burdens of her stewardship.

"But we'll talk it over to-night. Don't be hasty."

"I won't," replied the girl.

She was by no means as unmoved as she gave out. She had always admired
and liked Capta