to you."

"To ME!" Mary frowned.

Sibyl rippled and cooed again. "There isn't ANYBODY ever made such a hit
with Father Sheridan in his life as you have. And of course we ALL
hope you're not going to be exactly an outsider in the affairs of the
family!" (This sally with another and louder effect of laughter). "And
if it's MY duty, why, in a way, I think it might be thought yours, too."

"No, no!" exclaimed Mary, sharply.

"Listen," said Sibyl. "Now suppose I go to Father Sheridan with this
story, and Edith says it's not true; suppose she says Lamhorn has a
good reputation and that I'm repeating irresponsible gossip, or suppose
(what's most likely) she loses her temper and says I invented it, then
what am I going to do? Father Sheridan doesn't know Mrs. Kittersby and
her daughter, and they're out of the question, anyway. But suppose I
could say: 'All right, if you want proof, ask Miss Vertrees. She came
with me, and she's waiting in the next room right now, to--"

"No, no," said Mary, quickly. "You mustn't--"

"Listen just a minute more," Sibyl urged, confidingly. She was on easy
ground now, to her own mind, and had no doubt of her success. "You
naturally don't want to begin by taking part in a family quarrel, but
if YOU take part in it, it won't be one. You don't know yourself what
weight you carry over there, and no one would have the right to say you
did it except out of the purest kindness. Don't you see that Jim and
his father would admire you all the more for it? Miss Vertrees, listen!
Don't you see we OUGHT to do it, you and I? Do you suppose Robert
Lamhorn cares a snap of his finger for her? Do you suppose a man like
him would LOOK at Edith Sheridan if it wasn't for the money?" And again
Sibyl's emotion rose to the surface. "I tell you he's after nothing on
earth but to get his finger in that old man's money-pile, over there,
next door! He'd marry ANYBODY to do it. Marry Edith?" she cried. "I tell
you he'd marry their nigger cook for THAT!"

She stopped, afraid--at the wrong time--that she had been too vehement,
but a glance at Mary reassured her, and Sibyl decided that she had
produced the effect she wished. Mary was not looking at her; she was
staring straight before her at the wall, her eyes wide and shining. She
became visibly a little paler as Sibyl looked at her.

"After nothing on earth but to get his finger in that old man's
money-pile, over there, next door!" The voice was vulgar, the words were