ll he comes; can't you send the demands to a
lawyer where he is?"

"Certainly, if you wish it; but that course will necessarily be attended
with some expense."

"I choose to have it done," said Mrs. Kinloch, decisively. "Mildred, who
has always been foolishly partial to the young upstart, insists that her
father intended to give up the notes to Mark, and she thinks that was what
he wanted to send for Uncle Ralph about, just before he died. I don't
believe it, and I don't intend to fling away _my_ money upon such folks."

"You are quite right, ma'am," said the lawyer. "The inconsiderate
generosity of school-children would be a poor basis for the transactions
of business."

"And besides," continued Mrs. Kinloch, "I want the young man to remember
the blacksmith's shop that he came from, and get over his ridiculous
notion of looking up to our family."

"Oh ho!" said Mr. Clamp, "that is it? Well, you are a sagacious woman,"--
looking at her with unfeigned admiration.

"I _can_ see through a millstone, when there is a hole in it," said Mrs.
Kinloch. "And I mean to stop this nonsense."

"To be sure,--it would be a very unequal match in every way. Besides, I'm
told that he isn't well-grounded in doctrine. He even goes to Brooklyn to
hear Torchlight preach." And Mr. Clamp rolled up his eyes, interlocking
his fingers, as he was wont when at church-meeting he rose to exhort.

"I don't pretend to be a judge of doctrine, further than the catechism
goes," said the widow; "but Mr. Rook says that Torchlight is a dangerous
man, and will lead the churches off into infidelity."

"Yes, Mrs. Kinloch, the free-thinking of this age is the fruitful parent
of all evil,--of Mormonism, Unitarianism, Spiritualism, and of all those
forms of error which seek to overthrow"----

There was a crash in the china-closet. Mrs. Kinloch went to the door, and
leading out Lucy Ransom, the maid, by the ear, exclaimed, "You hussy, what
were you there for? I'll teach you to be listening about in closets,"
(giving the ear a fresh tweak,) "you eavesdropper!"

"Quit!" cried Lucy. "I didn't mean to listen. I was there rubbin' the
silver 'fore you come. Then I didn't wanter come out, for I was afeard."

"What made the smash, then?" demanded Mrs. Kinloch.

"I was settin' things on the top shelf, and the chair tipped over."

"Don't make it worse by fibbing! If that was so, how came the chair to tip
the way it did? You were trying to peep over the door. Go