Cane. "She still sheds tears
every time his name is mentioned; and strange to relate, I don't believe
her lachrymal glands ever yielded up one drop of moisture until she
found that the old tight-wad had left her a quarter of a million that
she never dreamed he possessed."

"Was Clarence a tight-wad?" asked Sube with interest. "Where'd he live,
anyway? When'd he die?"

"He was a very nice man," Mrs. Cane hastened to explain. "He lived and
died in Rochester. And you must be very courteous to Mrs.
Hotchkiss-Harger, as she is one of your father's very best clients. Her
husband was a splendid man--"

"Where was he buried?" asked Sube.

"He was buried here in the family lot beside his father and mother."

"But Clarence was a tight-wad, was he?" Sube repeated.

Mr. Cane squirmed. "Oh, that was just a joking way of speaking," he
explained seriously. "He was a fine fellow; a very successful business
man; he realized that it was the pennies that made the dollars, and ran
his business on the lines of strictest efficiency and economy; and
although he was well off, he lived very simply--"

"I see," Sube assured him. "He _was_ a tight-wad!"

"Please, Sube!" Mrs. Cane was very gentle, but very much in earnest.
"Please don't ever say that again. It might get back to Mrs.
Hotchkiss-Harger's ears, and if it did it would offend her terribly. She
isn't in a very humorous state just now, and she couldn't possibly see
the joke. It would be a very serious matter if she should be offended by
any member of our family as she is about the most important client I
have just now. You won't ever mention this matter again, will you, my
boy?"

"Oh, no! Not if you don't want me to. But we all know he _was_ a
tight-wad, don't we?"

If Sube had desired to mention the matter to Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger,
which no doubt he would have done at the first propitious opportunity,
he would have had no chance until the next evening; for he did not see
her until then. But when he saw her he did not go out of his way to
converse with her. He made himself as small as possible and started for
the farther end of the room.

He was one of nineteen of Nancy's little friends who were assembled in
the library chattering like magpies, while, beyond the closely drawn
parlor curtains, her father and mother were lighting the candles on the
Christmas tree. One moment the young people were fairly on tip-toe with
pleasant anticipations--and the next they were silent and