re was a duty to the holders of bonds and stocks.

His wife had a question on her lips, a question for which she had to
summon all her courage. She chose that form for it which would hurt him
least.

"Mr. Worthington is going to try to change these things?"

Mr. Merrill roused himself at the words, and his eyes flashed. He became
a different man.

"Change them!" he cried bitterly, "change them for the worse, if he can.
He will try to wrest the power from Jethro Bass. I don't defend him. I
don't defend myself. But I like Jethro Bass. I won't deny it. He's human,
and I like him, and whatever they say about him I know that he's been a
true friend to me. And I tell you as I hope for happiness here and
hereafter, that if Worthington succeeds in what he is trying to do, if
the railroads win in this fight, there will be no mercy for the people of
that state. I'm a railroad man myself, though I have no interest in this
affair. My turn may come later. Will come later, I suppose. Isaac D.
Worthington has a very little heart or soul or mercy himself; but the
corporation which he means to set up will have none at all. It will grind
the people and debase them and clog their progress a hundred times more
than Jethro Bass has done. Mark my words, Carry. I'm running ahead of the
times a little, but I can see it all as clearly as if it existed now."

Mrs. Merrill went about her duties that morning with a heavy heart, and
more than once she paused to wipe away a tear that would have fallen on
the linen she was sorting. At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, and Ellen
appeared at the entrance to the linen closet with a card in her hand.
Mrs. Merrill looked at it with a, flurry of surprise. It read:--

MISS LUCRETIA PENNIMAN

The Woman's Hour

CHAPTER X

It was certainly affinity that led Miss Lucretia to choose the rosewood
sofa of a bygone age, which was covered with horsehair. Miss Lucretia's
features seemed to be constructed on a larger and more generous principle
than those of women are nowadays. Her face was longer. With her curls and
her bonnet and her bombazine,--which she wore in all seasons,--she was in
complete harmony with the sofa. She had thrown aside the storm cloak
which had become so familiar to pedestrians in certain parts of Boston.

"My dear Miss Penniman," said Mrs. Merrill, "I am delighted and honored.
I scarcely hoped for such a pleasure. I have so long admired you and your
work,