ustin, that she loathed life and the miserable
business of being a woman, and she ended by finding pretexts for daily
excursions past the Clematis House, always arrayed in the most fetching
street costumes. When on the third day she encountered Justin, that
gentleman responded gallantly to her pensive tender reproach. His was
no Jericho heart, to demand a seven-day siege. He had found Persis
Dale unexpectedly interesting, but Annabel was unexpectedly pretty, and
a liking for pickles does not preclude a taste for sweets.

Thomas Hardin's married sister, Mrs. Gibson, heard the news with
consternation. She had long been aware of the state of her brother's
affections, this indeed arguing no especial insight, since an infant in
arms would have possessed sufficient intuition to read the heart of the
guileless Thomas. Mrs. Gibson had regarded Persis in the proprietary
light of a prospective sister-in-law, even going so far as to criticize
her with the frank freedom which is the prerogative of kinship. When
the first rumor of Justin's attentions reached the good woman's ears,
she made a hurried trip to town for the sole purpose of interviewing
her brother.

As good luck would have it, business was slack at the moment of her
arrival, and Thomas left two lanky country-women to the care of his
assistant, and followed his sister to a dingy space in the rear which,
primarily serving as a store-room, was also by virtue of a certain
gloomy privacy, peculiarly adapted to the discussion of a subject of
such delicacy.

Mrs. Gibson dusted a chair with needless ostentation and then focused
her regard on her brother who stood before her a self-confessed
culprit, conscious guilt as manifest in his attitude as in the flaming
confusion of his face.

"Thomas, what's this I hear about Persis Dale?"

"I don't know, Nellie. What have you heard?"

Mrs. Gibson's glance expressed her scorn of the evasion.

"Is it true that Justin Ware is going with her?"

"Why, I've heard, Nellie, that he's been over there once or twice. Old
friend of Joel's," explained Thomas, with a futile effort to speak
convincingly.

"Fiddlesticks! If I thought you really believed that any man would
walk from the Clematis House out to the Dale place for the sake of
hearing Joel Dale talk about the latest cure-all, I'd be ashamed to own
you for my brother. If he goes, he goes to see Persis. Now, what do
you mean to do about it?"

"Nellie, I haven't any rig