urged him into that business, thinking that it was for his
benefit,--that no one could have foreseen what happened, and that if
Charles lost, he also had lost, and much more heavily. But, as I was
saying, I thought at first I should have to give up our guest day; but
when matters came to be settled, I found there were other things I would
rather economize on."

"Where _is_ John now, Mrs. Lambert?"

"He is in--" But just at that moment a tall pretty girl of fourteen
entered the room. It was Elsie, the eldest of the Lambert children.

"Why, Elsie, how you have grown!" cried Mrs. Mason, who hadn't seen
Elsie for some months, "and you've quite lost the look of your mother."

"Yes, Elsie is getting to look like the Lamberts," remarked the mother.

"Everybody says I look just like Uncle John," spoke up Elsie.

"Oh, you were asking me where John was now," said Mrs. Lambert, turning
to Mrs. Mason. "He is in New York, dabbling in railroads, as usual, and
getting poorer and poorer by this obstinate folly, I heard last week.
_We_ don't see him, of course; for, as I told you, we don't forgive each
other. Oh!" as her visitor cast a questioning glance toward Elsie, who
had suddenly given a little start here, "Elsie knows all about it. Elsie
is my big girl now. But what is it, my dear?--you came in to ask me
something,--what is it?"

"It's about Tommy. He has told me who he is going to invite for next
week,"--next week was Thanksgiving week,--"and I knew you would not like
it, and I felt that I ought to tell you; it is that horrid Marchant
boy."

"Like it,--I should think not! Why, what in the world has put Tommy up
to that?"

"He says that Joe Marchant hasn't any home of his own this
Thanksgiving, because his father has gone out West on business, and left
Joe all alone with those people that his father and he boarded with just
after his mother died; and Tommy pities Joe so, he says he is going to
invite him here for next Thursday, and I knew you wouldn't want him."

"Of course not; the boy is ill-mannered and disagreeable, and he is
always quarrelling with Tommy."

"I told Tommy that," laughed Elsie, "and he said he guessed he'd done
_his_ share of the quarrelling, and that, anyway, Joe Marchant was the
under dog now, and he was going to forgive and forget."

"Dear little Tommy!" exclaimed Mrs. Lambert, admiringly.

"And he said, too, mother, that he knew you wouldn't object; that you
always told him that Thanksgivin