"Not at all," was the positive assertion. "Where did you get the
silk?"

A somewhat indefinite answer was given; to which Fanny returned--

"I only wish we had known your intention. Mother would have gone
with you to Edward's store. It is too bad that you should have been
so cheated. The person who sold you the silk is no better than
downright swindler."

"If it is as you say," replied Mrs. Waring, calmly, "he is not an
honest man. He saw that I was a stranger, ignorant of current
prices, and he took advantage of the fact to do me a wrong. I am
more grieved for his sake than my own. To me, he loss is only a few
dollars; to him--alas! by what rule can we make the estimate?"

Much more was said, not needful here to repeat. In the evening,
Edward Allen called to see Fanny, who spoke of the purchase made by
Mrs. Waring. Her aunt was present. The silk was produced in evidence
of the fact that she had been most shamefully wronged by some
storekeeper.

"For what can you sell goods of a similar quality?" was the direct
question of Fanny.

The moment Allen saw the piece of silk, he recognised it as the same
he had sold in the morning. Turning quickly, and with a flushing
countenance, to that part of the room where Mrs. Waring sat, partly
in the shadow, he became at once conscious of the fact that she was
the purchaser. The eyes of Fanny followed those of the lover, and
then came back to his face. She saw the o'ermantling blush; the
sudden loss of self-possession, the quailing of his glance beneath
the fixed look of Mrs. Waring. At once the whole truth flashed upon
her mind, and starting up, she said, in a blended voice of grief and
indignation--

"Surely, surely, Edward, you are not the man!"

Before Allen could reply, Mrs. Waring said firmly: "Yes, it is too
true. He is the man!"

At this, Fanny grew deadly pale, staggered toward her mother, and
sunk, sobbing wildly, upon her bosom.

Too much excited and confused for coherent explanation, and too
clearly conscious of his mean dishonesty toward a stranger, Allen
attempted no vindication nor excuse, lest matters should assume even
a worse aspect. A moment or two he stood irresolute, and then
retired from the house. As he did so, Mr. Lovering entered the room
where this little scene had just transpired, and was quite startled
at the aspect of affairs.

"What's this? What has happened? Fanny, child, what in the name of
wonder is the matter? Where's Edward?"

Mr.