she ought to be
earning her own living. That her grandfather made them more than
welcome, and besides had an old-fashioned horror of a woman going out
into the world as a worker, did not alter her conviction.

She did not feel competent to teach. Delicate as a child, she had gone
to school intermittently, and the best of her somewhat scrappy
education had been gained in her grandfather's library; but she found
it difficult to combat the prejudice of the whole family against any
other method of supporting herself. Alex loved the old house,--the
outside of which time and coal-dust had turned a uniform dingy
gray,--and sometimes wondered how she could ever stand it to live
anywhere else. There is a point where dinginess becomes picturesque;
and the vines, undisturbed by repairs, were doing their best to hide
all deficiencies. The grounds were ample for a city; and the tall
Ginkgo tree which reached out its fern-like branches protectingly
toward the timeworn mansion was only one of many other fine trees and
shrubs. Inside, the lofty rooms and handsome furnishings of many years
ago, some fine old portraits, and many valuable books and prints gave
it a distinction not to be achieved by many modern houses.

Pretty Mrs. Russell, almost as dainty and girlish as her youngest
daughter, shed tears over Alex's oddity; and Alex, who sincerely loved
and admired her mother, felt her burden all the greater because she
was a disappointment. She had submitted for one winter to be taken to
receptions and teas, and to have a dinner given in her honor, in the
newspaper accounts of which the rare old Russell silver figured
effectively, and on the whole she had enjoyed it. But a season of it
was enough; her practical mind rebelled against the expense and
uselessness of such a life. She adopted the plainest style of dress,
declined invitations, and privately studied shorthand.

In the bottom of her heart Madelaine thought it just as well. Plain
things became Alex, and it was nobody's fault but her own if she
preferred the background. And Alex was not in the least jealous of her
sister's popularity. She had something of the responsible feelings of
a father or brother toward her mother and Madelaine.

Alex's refuge was the library and the companionship of her
grandfather, who often told her she took life too seriously.

"You are young yet. Be happy, and things will work out of themselves."

But Alexina did not share his gentle optimism. It