rfectly determined, and not to be kept back by any
trivial hindrances, such as her present unwillingness to accept him, or
even her repugnance to him, if a freak of the moment had carried her so
far. It was a settled thing: Myrtle Hazard must become Mrs. Bradshaw;
and nobody could deny that, if he gave her his name, they had a chance,
at least, for a brilliant future.

CHAPTER XXIX. MISTRESS KITTY FAGAN CALLS ON MASTER BYLES GRIDLEY.

"I 'd like to go down to the store this mornin', Miss Withers, plase.
Sure I've niver a shoe to my fut, only jist these two that I've got on,
an' one other pair, and thim is so full of holes that whin I 'm standin'
in 'em I'm outside of 'em intirely."

"You can go, Kitty," Miss Silence answered, funereally.

Thereupon Kitty Fagan proceeded to array herself in her most tidy
apparel, including a pair of shoes not exactly answering to her
description, and set out straight for the house of the Widow Hopkins.
Arrived at that respectable mansion, she inquired for Mr. Gridley, and
was informed that he was at home. Had a message for him,--could she
see him in his study? She could if she would wait a little while. Mr.
Gridley was busy just at this minute. Sit down, Kitty, and warm yourself
at the cooking-stove.

Mistress Kitty accepted Mrs. Hopkins's hospitable offer, and presently
began orienting herself, and getting ready to make herself agreeable.
The kindhearted Mrs. Hopkins had gathered about her several other
pensioners besides the twins. These two little people, it may be here
mentioned, were just taking a morning airing in charge of Susan Posey,
who strolled along in company with Gifted Hopkins on his way to the
store.

Mistress Kitty soon began the conversational blandishments so natural to
her good-humored race. "It's a little blarney that'll jist suit th' old
lady," she said to herself, as she made her first conciliatory advance.

"An' sure an' it's a beautiful kitten you've got there, Mrs. Hopkins.
An' it's a splendid mouser she is, I'll be bound. Does n't she look as
if she'd clans the house out o'them little bastes, bad luck to em."

Mrs. Hopkins looked benignantly upon the more than middle-aged tabby,
slumbering as if she had never known an enemy, and turned smiling to
Mistress Kitty. "Why, bless your heart, Kitty, our old puss would n't
know a mouse by sight, if you showed her one. If I was a mouse, I'd as
lieves have a nest in one of that old cat's ears as anywhere el