"Hm-m." Miss Flora fell back in her chair. "Well, I suppose you didn't, then, if you say so. And I don't need to ask if you accepted him. You didn't, of course, or you'd have been there to see him off. And he wouldn't have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn't ask you, I suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that—"

"Flora," interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, "WILL you stop talking in that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to- day. I am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going—to Chicago."

"To CHICAGO—you!" Miss Flora came erect in her chair.

"Yes, for a visit. I'm going to see my old classmate, Nellie Maynard— Mrs. Tyndall."

"Maggie!"

"What's the matter?"

"Why, n-nothing. It's lovely, of course, only—only I—I'm so surprised! You never go anywhere."

"All the more reason why I should, then. It's time I did," smiled Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie was looking more at ease now.

"When are you going?"

"Next Wednesday. I heard from Nellie last night. She is expecting me then."

"How perfectly splendid! I'm so glad! And I do hope you can DO it, and that it won't peter out at the last minute, same's most of your good times do. Poor Maggie! And you've had such a hard life—and your boarder leaving, too! That'll make a lot of difference in your pocketbook, won't it? But, Maggie, you'll have to have some new clothes."

"Of course. I've been shopping this afternoon. I've got to have—oh, lots of things."

"Of course you have. And, Maggie,"—Miss Flora's face grew eager,— "please, PLEASE, won't you let me help you a little—about those clothes? And get some nice ones—some real nice ones, for once. You KNOW how I'd love to! Please, Maggie, there's a good girl!"

"Thank you, no, dear," refused Miss Maggie, shaking her head with a smile. "But I appreciate your kindness just the same—indeed, I do!"

"If you wouldn't be so horrid proud," pouted Miss Flora.

But Miss Maggie stopped her with a gesture.

"No, no,—listen! I—I have something to tell you. I was going to tell you soon, anyway, and I'll tell it now. I HAVE money, dear,—lots of it now."

"You HAVE money!"

"Yes. Father's Cousin George died two months ago."

"The rich one, in Alaska?"

"Yes; and to father's daughter he left—fifty thousand dollars."

"MAG-gie!"

"And I never even SAW him! But he loved father, you know, years ago, and father loved him."

"But had you ever heard from him—late years?"

"Not much. Father was very angry because he went to Alaska in the first place, you know, and they haven't ever written very often."

"Fifty thousand! And you've got it now?"