ome day when they are done using you?"

John Burrill seated himself astride a low wooden chair, and propelling
it and himself forward by a movement of the feet and a "hitch" of the
shoulders, he leaned across the chair back in his most facetious manner,
and addressed her with severe eloquence.

"Look here, Mrs. Burrill number one, don't you take advantage of your
position, and ride the high horse too free. It's something to 'ave been
Mrs. J. Burrill once, I'll admit; but don't let it elevate you too much.
You ain't quite so handsome as the present Mrs. Burrill, neither are you
so young, consequently you don't show off so well in a tantrum. Now the
present Mrs. Burrill--"

"Oh, then she does have tantrums, the present Mrs. Burrill," sneered the
woman, fairly quivering with suppressed rage. "One would think she would
be so proud of you that she could excuse all your little faults. Brooks
says that they all talk French up there, so that you can't wring into
their confabs, John."

"Does he?" remarked Burrill, quietly, but with an ominous gleam in his
ugly eyes. "Brooks must be careful of that tongue of his. You may
reckon that they all stop their French when _I_ begin to talk. Now,
don't be disagreeable, Nance; it ain't every man that can take a rise in
the world like me, and _I_ don't put on airs, and hold myself above my
old friends. Do you think that every man could step into such a family
as _I_ belong to, Mrs. Burrill? No one can say that John Burrill's a
common fellow after that feat."

"No, but a great many can say that John Burrill's a mean fellow, too
mean to walk over. Do you think the men as you worked along side of, and
drank and supped with, don't know what you are, John Burrill! Do you
think that they don't all know that your outrageous vanity has made a
fool of you? Chance threw into your hands a secret of the Lamottes; you
need not stare, we ain't fools down here at the factories. Maybe I know
what that secret is, and maybe I don't. It's no matter. I know more of
your doings than you give me credit for, John Burrill. Now, what must
you do? Blackmail would have satisfied a sensible man; but straightway
you are seized with the idea that you were born to be a gentleman. You!
Then you form your plan; and you force, by means of the power in your
hands, that beautiful young lady to marry you."

"Seems to me," interrupts the man who has been listening quite
contentedly, "that you are getting along too fast wi