as too superior a woman not to be ashamed of such thoughts, but
the repression of her married life had developed a morbid sensitiveness,
and she was always trying to adjust the unadjustable--Simeon's small
economies to her own ideas of personal dignity; she hardly realized
how much the desire to live fittingly in their position had to do with
her wish to earn an income.

While Stephen's criticisms were still fresh in her mind she rewrote
her story, and when she read it again--which was not till several days
had passed--she felt she had made large strides in the art she so
coveted.

CHAPTER IV.

When affairs of a family once begin to stir, they seem unable to
settle till a flurry takes place quite bewildering to the stagnant
ideas of the easy-going. The fact that Deena was coming back to her
old quarters in the third story was the first event to excite a
flutter of interest in the Shelton home circle; with Mr. Shelton,
because she was his favorite child; with Mrs. Shelton, because Deena
would both pay and help; with the children, because they could count
upon her kindness no matter how outrageous their demands. The next
thing that happened, while it hastened her coming, entirely eclipsed
it. Fortunately it was delayed until the day before the Ponsonby house
was to be handed over to its new tenant, Mrs. Barnes.

Mrs. Shelton was busy clearing a closet for her daughter's use when
she heard her husband calling to her from below.

"Mary," he said, "here is a telegram."

They were not of everyday occurrence, and Mrs. Shelton's fears were
for Polly, her one absent child, as she joined her husband and
stretched out her hand for the yellow envelope.

The magnetic heart of a mother is almost as invariably set to the
prosperous daughter as to the good-for-nothing son; there is a subtle
philosophy in it, but quite aside from the interest of this story.

The telegram said:

Mrs. Thomas Beck's funeral will take place on Thursday
at 11 A. M.

It was dated Chicago, and signed "Herbert Beck."

"Who is Mrs. Beck?" asked Mr. Shelton, crossly; the morning was not
his happiest time.

"She is my first cousin, once removed," Mrs. Shelton answered, with
painstaking accuracy. "You must remember her, John. She was my
bridesmaid, and we corresponded for years after she married and moved
to Chicago until"--here Mrs. Shelton's pale face flushed---"I once
asked her to lend me some money, and told her how badly things were