usiness; but, my dear, it is the expansion in his own life. Club
after club, and all of them cost a living. And then he has other
expenses, which I do not care to name to you. I think Harry has been
cruelly forgetful of us. Just look at that pile of bills on my table.
They make me sick."

"Why do you not carry them to papa?"

"They are bills for costumes and such things. Your father would take a
fit over them. Harry has always helped me out of such dilemmas before.
But he has been running an awful rig this winter."

"It would have been better if he had married Yanna."

"Do not name the girl. I wish I had never seen her. And now, her
brother wanting to marry you! It is too absurd!"

"I--do--not--know--about--that. You say _millions_!"

"Millions! That is what your father told me, and he saw the vouchers
for them. People like the Van Hoosens, with all that money! and _we_
on the verge of bankruptcy!"

"Most of the Van Hoosens are rich. Look at Miss Alida. Father says no
one can keep an acre of land for her. Where is Antony's property?"

"It is in San Francisco, chiefly. My dear, he owns half an hotel, and
has nothing to do but sit still in New York, or Paris, or anywhere,
and get the results sent to him. And he has property in mines, and
cattle, and land, and lots of real estate, all down the Pacific coast.
The man is vulgarly rich."

"Antony is not vulgar, mamma. One ought to give even the devil his
due. I have often noticed him in a room, and he wears a dress suit as
well as any one. Besides, you know, he really does belong to a very
good old family."

"Well, he is going to Paris, London, Vienna, St. Petersburg, Rome, and
I know not where else; so he will doubtless acquire some foreign
polish. He is an old friend of the California grand dame who queens it
over the American colony in Paris, so he is sure to be a great
favorite at the French court. Oh, it takes Europeans to appreciate
California millionaires."

Rose was silent for a long time, and Mrs. Filmer took out her
accounts, and laid a file of bills at her side, and then began to add
up her check book, and to look very grave and hopeless over it.

"I do not wonder your father talks of Woodsome," she said, "and I am
sure we have had very few entertainments, and have been as economical
as possible; yet I do believe my bank account is overdrawn. Can you
remember the amount of your last check, Rose?"

"No, I cannot, mamma. Millions are a great deal of m