ver, was to perfect all
his plans before making the first step.

Wallace Carpenter was not in town. Before the letter had followed him
to his new address, and the answer had returned, a week had passed. Of
course the money was gladly put at Thorpe's disposal. The latter at once
interviewed his sister.

"Helen," he said, "I have made arrangements for some money. What would
you like to do this year?"

She raised her head and looked at him with clear bright gaze. If he
could so easily raise the money, why had he not done so before? He
knew how much she wanted it. Her happiness did not count. Only when his
quixotic ideas of family honor were attacked did he bestir himself.

"I am going to Uncle Amos's," she replied distinctly.

"What?" asked Thorpe incredulously.

For answer she pointed to a letter lying open on the table. Thorpe took
it and read:

"My dear Niece:

"Both Mrs. Thorpe and myself more than rejoice that time and reflection
have removed that, I must confess, natural prejudice which the
unfortunate family affair, to which I will not allude, raised in your
mind against us. As we said long ago, our home is your's when you
may wish to make it so. You state your present readiness to come
immediately. Unless you wire to the contrary, we shall expect you next
Tuesday evening on the four-forty train. I shall be at the Central
Station myself to meet you. If your brother is now with you, I should be
pleased to see him also, and will be most happy to give him a position
with the firm.

"Aff. your uncle,

"Amos Thorpe.

"New York, June 6, 1883."

On finishing the last paragraph the reader crumpled the letter and threw
it into the grate.

"I am sorry you did that, Helen," said he, "but I don't blame you, and
it can't be helped. We won't need to take advantage of his 'kind offer'
now."

"I intend to do so, however," replied the girl coldly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she cried, "that I am sick of waiting on your good pleasure. I
waited, and slaved, and stood unbearable things for two years. I did
it cheerfully. And in return I don't get a civil word, not a decent
explanation, not even a--caress," she fairly sobbed out the last word.
"I can't stand it any longer. I have tried and tried and tried, and then
when I've come to you for the littlest word of encouragement, you have
pecked at me with those stingy little kisses, and have told me I was
young and ought to finish my education. You put me in unc