sted a genteel prelude to conversation, with
possible pulmonary complications.

"I am induced to accept your proposal temporarily," she said, in a voice
of querulous precision, "on account of pressing pecuniary circumstances
which would not have happened had my claim against the shipowners for
my dear husband's loss been properly raised. I hope you fully understand
that I am unfitted both by ill health and early education from doing
any menial or manual work in your household. I shall simply oversee and
direct. I shall expect that the stipend you offer shall be paid monthly
in advance. And as my medical man prescribes a certain amount of
stimulation for my system, I shall expect to be furnished with such
viands--or even"--she coughed slightly--"such beverages as may be
necessary. I am far from strong--yet my wants are few."

"Ez far ez I am ketchin' on and followin' ye, ma'am," returned Prosper
timidly, "ye'll hev everything ye want--jest like it was yer own home.
In fact," he went on, suddenly growing desperate as the difficulties of
adjusting this unexpectedly fastidious and superior woman to his plan
seemed to increase, "ye'll jest consider me ez yer"--But here her murky
eyes were fixed on his and he faltered. Yet he had gone too far to
retreat. "Ye see," he stammered, with a hysterical grimness that was
intended to be playful--"ye see, this is jest a little secret betwixt
and between you and me; there'll be only you and me in the house, and it
would kinder seem to the boys more homelike--ef--ef--you and me
had--you bein' a widder, you know--a kind of--of"--here his smile became
ghastly--"close relationship."

The widow of Captain Pottinger here sat up so suddenly that she seemed
to slip through her sombre and precise enwrappings with an exposure
of the real Mrs. Pottinger that was almost improper. Her high color
deepened; the pupils of her black eyes contracted in the light the
innocent Prosper had poured into them. Leaning forward, with her fingers
clasped on her bosom, she said: "Did you tell this to the manager?"

"Of course not," said Prosper; "ye see, it's only a matter 'twixt you
and me."

Mrs. Pottinger looked at Prosper, drew a deep breath, and then gazed
at the abelone shells for moral support. A smile, half querulous,
half superior, crossed her face as she said: "This is very abrupt and
unusual. There is, of course, a disparity in our ages! You have never
seen me before--at least to my knowledge--alth