is eyes, and accepted his estimate of the motives of
people--and a low estimate I fear it was. Who would not be rich if he
could? Do you mean to tell me that a man who is getting fat dividends
out of a stock does not regard more leniently the manner in which that
stock is manipulated than one who does not own any of it? I dare say,
if Carmen had heard that explanation, and seen Margaret's tearful, happy
acceptance of it, she would have shaken her pretty head and said, "They
are getting too worldly for me."

In the morning the letter was despatched to Miss Forsythe, enclosing the
check for Mrs. Fletcher--a joyful note, full of affection. "We cannot
come," Margaret wrote. "My husband cannot leave, and he does not want to
spare me"--the little hypocrite! he had told her that she could easily
go for a day "but we shall think of you dear ones all day, and I do hope
that now there will not be the least cloud on your Christmas."

It seems a great pity, in view of the scientific organization of
society, that there are so many sensibilities unclassified and
unprovided for in the otherwise perfect machinery. Why should the beggar
to whom you toss a silver dollar from your carriage feel a little grudge
against you? Perhaps he wouldn't like to earn the dollar, but if it had
been accompanied by a word of sympathy, his sensibility might have been
soothed by your recognition of human partnership in the goods of this
world. People not paupers are all eager to take what is theirs of right;
but anything in the semblance of charity is a bitter pill to swallow
until self-respect is a little broken down. Probably the resentment lies
in the recognition of the truth that it is much easier to be charitable
than to be just. If Margaret had seen the effect produced by her
letter she might have thought of this; she might have gone further,
and reflected upon what would have been her own state of mind two years
earlier if she had received such a letter. Miss Forsythe read it with a
very heavy heart. She hesitated about showing it to Mrs. Fletcher, and
when she did, and gave her the check, it was with a sense of shame.

"The insolence of the thing!" cried Mrs. Fletcher, as soon as she
comprehended it.

"Not insolence," pleaded Miss Forsythe, softly; "it is out of the
kindness of her heart. She would be dreadfully wounded to know that you
took it so."

"Well," said Mrs. Fletcher, hotly, "I like that kind of sensibility.
Does she think I have no