"Nellie, Kennedy's stepsister. I never knew there was such a being,"

said Miss Thayer, while young Robinson, a lisping, insipid dandy,

drawled out, "A sthool-marm, J. Thee? I'th really romantic! Thend

for her, of courth. A little dithipline won't hurt any of uth."

J.C. made a faint effort to rally, but they joked him so hard that

he remained silent, while James regarded him with a look of cool

contempt sufficiently indicative of his opinion.

At last when Miss Thayer asked "if the bridal day were fixed," he

roused himself, and thinking if he told the truth he should

effectually deceive them, he answered, "Yes, next Christmas is the

time appointed. We were to have been married in June, but the lady

lost her fortune and the marriage was deferred."

"Oh, teaching to purchase her bridal trousseau. I'm dying to see

it," laughingly replied Miss Thayer, while another rejoined, "Lost

her fortune. Was she then an heiress?"

"Yes, a milkman's heiress," said J.C., with a slightly scornful

emphasis on the name which he himself had given to Maude at a time

when a milkman's money seemed as valuable to him as that of any

other man.

There was a dark, stern look on the face of James De Vere, and as

Miss Thayer, the ruling spirit of the party, had an eye on him and

his broad lands, she deemed it wise to change the conversation from

the "Milkman's Heiress" to a topic less displeasing to their

handsome host. In the course of the afternoon the cousins were alone

for a few moments, when the elder demanded of the other: "Do you

pretend to love Maude Remington, and still make light both of her

and your engagement with her?"

"I pretend to nothing which is not real," was J.C.'s haughty answer;

"but I do dislike having my matters canvassed by every silly tongue,

and have consequently kept my relation to Miss Remington a secret. I

cannot see her to-day, but with your permission I will pen a few

lines by way of explanation," and, glad to escape from the rebuking

glance he knew he so much deserved, he stepped into his cousin's

library, where he wrote the note James gave to Maude.

Under some circumstances it would have been a very unsatisfactory

message, but with her changed feelings toward the writer and James

De Vere sitting at her side, she scarcely noticed how cold it was,

and throwing it down, tore open Louis' letter which had come in the

evening mail. It was very brief, and hastily perusing its contents

Maude cast it from her with a cry of horror and disgust--then

catching it up, she moaned, "Oh, must I go!--I can't! I can't!"




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