arity between this young person and his own wife!
Both had the same fluffed, frizzled hair and a gay light chiffon frock
with gold trimmings. Though it was December the toothpick point of a
white-kid slipper protruded from the cage. An imitation Egyptian
necklace called attention to the thin, powdered throat. The cashier
was altogether a cheap copy of Beatrice's general appearance. She had
the same tiny, nondescript features and indolent expression in her
eyes; she was most superior in her fashion of dealing with the
customers, never deigning to speak or be spoken to. As soon as she
spied Steve, however, she smiled an invitation to enter and become
owner of half a whitefish or so.

Then the car came and he leaped aboard. It seemed unbearable that a
counterpart of Beatrice O'Valley was making change at Sullivan's Fish
Market--but more unbearable to realize that women in the position of
Beatrice O'Valley dressed and rouged--and acted very often--in such a
fashion that women in the position of Trudy and this cashier queen
sought industriously to imitate them.

* * * * *

Luke showed his grief in the normal manner of any half-grown,
true-blue lad, singularly thoughtful of his sister's wishes, and
mentioning everyone and everything except their mother and her death.

"We won't give up having a home," Mary told him the night of the
funeral; "we'll move into a smaller place so I can take care of it."

"I guess I'll work pretty hard at school," was all he answered.

"Of course you will. I'm proud of you now, and if you work and show
you deserve it I'll help you through college."

Luke shook his head. "Takes too long before I could get to earning
real money. You ought to have it easy pretty soon."

"I love my work. Besides, you will live your own life, and so you
must grow up and love someone and marry her. I can't depend on any one
but myself," she added, a little bitterly.

Luke stared into the fire. Perhaps this tousle-haired, freckle-faced
boy surmised his sister's love-story. If so no one--least of all his
sister--should ever hear of the facts from his lips.

"I'm never going to get married. I want to make a lot of money like
Mr. O'Valley did--quick. Then we'll go and live in Europe and maybe
I'll get a steam yacht and we'll hunt for buried treasure," he could
not refrain from adding.

"All right, dear. Just work hard for now and be my pal; we'll let the
future take car