places."

"I've been taught that they should."

"Well, you'll get some dreadful disease and lose your beauty, and then
where are you?" added Charlie, thinking that might daunt the young
philanthropist.

But it did not, for Rose answered, with a sudden kindling of the eyes as
she remembered her talk with Uncle Alec: "I shouldn't like it. But there
would be one satisfaction in it, for when I'd lost my beauty and given
away my money, I should know who really cared for me."

Charlie nibbled his pen in silence for a moment, then asked, meekly,
"Could I respectfully inquire what great reform is to be carried on in
the old houses which their amiable owner is repairing?"

"I am merely going to make them comfortable homes for poor but
respectable women to live in. There is a class who cannot afford to
pay much, yet suffer a great deal from being obliged to stay in noisy,
dirty, crowded places like tenement houses and cheap lodgings. I can
help a few of them and I'm going to try."

"May I humbly ask if these decayed gentlewomen are to inhabit their
palatial retreat rent-free?"

"That was my first plan, but Uncle showed me that it was wiser not
make genteel paupers of them, but let them pay a small rent and feel
independent. I don't want the money, of course, and shall use it in
keeping the houses tidy or helping other women in like case," said Rose,
entirely ignoring her cousin's covert ridicule.

"Don't expect any gratitude, for you won't get it; nor much comfort with
a lot of forlornities on your hands, and be sure that when it is too
late you will tire of it all and wish you had done as other people do."

"Thanks for your cheerful prophecies, but I think I'll venture."

She looked so undaunted that Charlie was a little nettled and fired his
last shot rather recklessly: "Well, one thing I do know you'll never get
a husband if you go on in this absurd way, and by Jove! you need one to
take care of you and keep the property together!"

Rose had a temper, but seldom let it get the better of her; now,
however, it flashed up for a moment. Those last words were peculiarly
unfortunate, because Aunt Clara had used them more than once when
warning her against impecunious suitors and generous projects. She was
disappointed in her cousin, annoyed at having her little plans laughed
at, and indignant with him for his final suggestion.

"I'll never have one, if I must give up the liberty of doing what I know
is right, and I'd