raf. She lived at a good private hotel located in an
exclusive residence district.

It was true that Elizabeth--or "Beth," as she was more familiarly
called--was not a permanent guest at this hotel. When in New York she
was accustomed to live with one or the other of her cousins, who
welcomed her eagerly. But just now her mother had journeyed from the old
Ohio home to visit Beth, and the girl had no intention of inflicting
her parent upon the other girls. Therefore she had taken rooms at the
hotel temporarily, and the plan suited her mother excellently. For one
thing, Mrs. De Graf could go home and tell her Cloverton gossips that
she had stopped at the most "fashionable" hotel in New York; a second
point was that she loved to feast with epicurean avidity upon the
products of a clever _chef_, being one of those women who live to eat,
rather than eat to live.

Mrs. De Graf was John Merrick's only surviving sister, but she differed
as widely from the simple, kindly man in disposition as did her
ingenious daughter from her in mental attainments. The father, Professor
De Graf, was supposed to be a "musical genius." Before Beth came into
her money, through Uncle John, the Professor taught the piano and
singing; now, however, the daughter allowed her parents a liberal
income, and the self-engrossed musician devoted himself to composing
oratorios and concertas which no one but himself would ever play. To
be quite frank, the girl cared little for her gross and selfish parents,
and they in turn cared little for her beyond the value she afforded them
in the way of dollars and cents. So she had not lived at home, where
constant quarrels and bickerings nearly drove her frantic, since Uncle
John had adopted her. In catering to this present whim of her mother,
who longed to spend a few luxurious weeks in New York, Beth sacrificed
more than might be imagined by one unacquainted with her sad family
history.

Whimsical Major Doyle often called Uncle John's nieces "the Three
Graces"; but Beth was by odds the beauty of them all. Splendid brown
eyes, added to an exquisite complexion, almost faultless features and a
superb carriage, rendered this fair young girl distinguished in any
throng. Fortunately she was as yet quite unspoiled, being saved from
vanity by a morbid consciousness of her inborn failings and a sincere
loathing for the moral weakness that prevented her from correcting those
faults. Judging Beth by the common standard of