t that you see and talk to Nancy sometime." Miss Bancroft
rose, and shook out her skirt.

Mr. Prescott stood, looking straight ahead of him, with his under lip
thrust forward, a characteristic trick of that same grand-niece Nancy,
if he but knew it.

Presently he turned, and held out his hand with a queer, almost shy
smile.

"Do forgive me, Elizabeth, for bellowing at you as I have. You know,
my dear girl--and you have often agreed with me--that, while at my
death my nieces will become very rich, it has been my purpose to allow
them to know poverty, with all its sorrows and harassments, so that
they can use my fortune wisely for their own happiness and for the
happiness of the families that they will have in time. My theory is
right--but circumstances alter cases. I shall think over what you have
said--but I shall promise nothing."

Miss Bancroft accepted his hand and pressed it affectionately.

"Well, then, good-bye. No, don't bother to open the door for me; I'll
go this way."

He smiled at her again as she went down the steps.

"I always feel lonely when you have gone, even when we have been
quarrelling," he remarked, with a wistful look.

"Of course you feel lonely. You roll around in that huge house of
yours like a hazelnut in a shoe," returned Miss Bancroft, quickly. He
caught her meaning, and as quickly replied:

"Nonsense--I like plenty of room. Never could bear to have a lot of
people hanging around. No man can accomplish anything with an army of
women and things hanging to his coat-tails!"

"Tst!" observed Miss Bancroft, and because there was no answer to that,
she could retire with the satisfaction of having had the last word.

CHAPTER VII

A MAN OF "PRINCIPLES"

"One dozen stockings--six woolen and six silk--imagine owning six pairs
of silk stockings---six nighties--don't they look luxurious, all
beribboned and fluffy? One thick sweater, one pair of stout boots--I
hope these boots are stout enough; they look as if they could kick a
hole through the side of a battle-ship. One mackintosh--now where
under the sun can I put this mackintosh?"

"Oh, just roll it up in a bundle and slam it in that corner near your
shoes. It'll keep 'em from bumping around. My dear, you look as if
you'd been in a tornado."

"_In_ a tornado! I _am_ a tornado." Nancy lifted a flushed face, and
gazed at Alma through a haze of tumbled hair. Then she sat back on her
heels in front of the open trun