like Uncle Calvin and Aunt Martha (the
latter's stiff epistles had not prepossessed her), but she had never
entertained one question as to how they would like her.

To hear it declared first and foremostly that they took no interest in
her, and did not want her, and secondly, that they proposed sending her
out into the world to work for her living--these nightmarish facts made
her rebound at once to the memory of the carefree, shabby environment
where rosy possibilities had always been held before her. As her eyes
rested now on the bare wall of her bedroom, it softened and melted
until she saw a vision of footlights, herself in the centre of the
stage, while a murmur of applause, heart-warming, inspiring,
intoxicated her senses.

The day-dream soothed her to slumber, but the applause continued.
Instead of rejoicing, at last it began to disturb her. Her eyes slowly
opened, and she grew conscious that some one was knocking on her door.

At her summons a maid entered. "Somebody to see you, Miss. You don't
feel well enough, do you?"

The girl's tone was sympathetic. Sylvia was of a different type from
those who usually sought the Association. Her appearance suggested
romance.

"Who is it?" she asked eagerly, half rising. "A man?"

"Yes'm."

"A tall man, very straight?"

"He ain't so awful straight," returned the maid doubtfully.

"Thick hair?" (quickly).

"Yes'm."

"Handsome teeth?"

"I--I didn't see his teeth."

"Splendid chin?"

"Law, ma'am, his beard covers his chin."

"Beard!" Sylvia sprang to her feet. "You're crazy."

"No, I ain't, ma'am. Oh, 'tain't the gentleman you came here with, and
the superintendent said was one o' the best connected folks in Boston.
'Tain't him. I saw him. He's grand. I guess this one is sort of a
country gentleman, but he's awful pleasant-spoken and his beard's as
white as the driving snow."

Sylvia flung herself back on the bed. "You've made a mistake. He asked
for somebody else."

"No, ma'am," returned the maid; "because I thought first he said
'silver lace,' and I thought maybe he was a peddler, 'cause he had a
bag; so I told him we didn't want anything, and he was real nice. His
eyes sort of twinkled up, and he said _he did_ want something. He
wanted to see Miss--Sylvia--Lacey, real slow; and was you here? and I
said you was, and he told me to tell you a cousin of your mother's
wanted to see you, and his name was Jacob Johnson."

"I never heard of such a person