iberate falsehood.

"And you came here to us, got the best room in our house, and all of
mamma's best clothes, and you a beggar!"

Miss Rogers fairly trembled under the storm of wrath she had evoked.

"I--I did not mention it when I first came, because I had somehow hoped
you would care for me for myself, even though my money was gone, dear
child."

A sneering, scornful laugh broke from Sally's lips, a glare hateful to
behold flashed from her eyes.

"You have deceived us shamefully!" she cried. "How angry papa and mamma
and Louisa will be to learn that we have been entertaining a pauper!"

"Perhaps you have been entertaining an angel unawares," murmured Miss
Rogers.

"God forgive you, girl, for showing so little heart!" exclaimed Miss
Rogers, rising slowly to her feet.

"I shall take no saucy remarks from you!" cried Sally, harshly. "Come,
make haste! Take off those fine clothes, and be gone as fast as you
can!"

"But I have nothing to put on," said Miss Rogers.

Sally instantly touched the bell, and when the maid came in response to
her summons, she said, quickly:

"Bring me that bundle of clothes mamma laid out for you to give to the
charity collector to-day."

Wonderingly the maid brought the bundle, and she wondered still more
when Miss Sally ordered her to go down to the servants' hall, and not to
come up until she was called for.

"Now, then," she cried, harshly, after the door had closed upon the
maid, "get into these duds at once!"

Miss Rogers obeyed; and when at length the change was made, Sally
pointed to the door and cried, shrilly:

"Now go!"

"But the storm!" persisted Miss Rogers, piteously. "Oh, Sally, at least
let me stay until the storm has spent its fury!"

"Not an instant!" cried Sally Pendleton, fairly dragging her from the
room and down the corridor to the main door, which she flung open,
thrust her victim through it, and out into the storm.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FATE WEAVES A STRANGE WEB.

If Sally Pendleton had taken the trouble to look out after the trembling
old woman she had thrust so unceremoniously into the raging storm, she
would not have gone up to her own room with such a self-satisfied smile
on her face.

Just as that little scene was taking place, a brougham, drawn by a pair
of spirited horses, was being driven rapidly down the street, and was
almost abreast of the house as this extraordinary little drama was being
enacted.

Its occupant had ordered the