interested, in spite of herself, in the extravagant pretensions of her
son.

"I don't know it, I admit; but I think we ought to find out.
Checkynshaw says the child is still living with the Sisters of Charity,
somewhere in France. We have nothing but his word for it."

"That's enough. He says the child is living, and he don't like to have
her ill-treated by her mother-in-law. She is happy at the boarding
school, and when her education is finished, doubtless she will come
home."

"That's all bosh! Did any one ever see a letter from her? Did
Checkynshaw ever write a letter to her? Does he ever send her any
money?"

"But he goes to see her every year or two, when he visits Europe."

"Perhaps he does, and then perhaps he don't. Did any one else ever see
the child? Has any one any knowledge of her existence except through
Checkynshaw? I think not. Don't tell me, mother, that a man would leave
his daughter in a foreign country for ten years, and only go to see her
every year or two. In my opinion,--and I think my opinion is worth
something,--the child died in the hospital. Checkynshaw keeps up this
fiction because it puts five or six thousand dollars a year into his
pocket. No one has ever claimed the block of stores, and of course he
will hold on to it till some one does."

Mrs. Wittleworth could not help thinking, while starvation or the
almshouse stared her full in the face, what a blessing that block of
stores would be to her. If her sister's child was dead, it rightfully
belonged to her. It was certainly proper for Mr. Checkynshaw to prove
that Marguerite was still living, or at least to satisfy her privately
on the point.

"What can we do, Fitz?" she asked.

"What can we do, mother? That's the question. When I was in Summer
Street, this evening, I thought I would call upon my friend Choate.
Choate is a gentleman and a scholar--he is."

"Pshaw, Fitz!" ejaculated the poor woman. "Why _will_ you talk about
your friend Choate? He is not your friend. He would not touch you with
a ten-foot pole. He looks down upon you from an infinite height."

"Not he. Choate always treats everybody like a gentleman. He always
treated me like a gentleman. I believe in Choate--I do."

"It is ridiculous for you to talk about his being your friend."

"He is my friend in very deed. I called upon him at his residence, in
Winthrop Place, this evening. He treated me like a gentleman. He was
glad to see me. He shook hands with me, a