urden of her heart.

Looking down the road, Mrs. Banks espied the form of her brother John
walking in her direction and leading Jack by the hand.

This was a most unusual sight, for John's calls had been uncommonly few
of late years, since a man rarely visits a lady relative for the mere
purpose of hearing "a piece of her mind." This piece, large, solid,
highly flavored with pepper, and as acid as mental vinegar could make
it, was Louisa Banks's only contribution to conversation when she met
her brother. She could not stop for any airy persiflage about weather,
crops, or politics when her one desire was to tell him what she thought
of him.

"Good-morning, Louisa. Shake hands with your aunt, Jack."

"He can't till I'm through sweeping. Good-morning, John; what brings you
here?"

John sat down on the steps, and Jack flew to the barn, where there was
generally an amiable hired man and a cheerful cow, both infinitely
better company than his highly respected and wealthy aunt.

"I came because I had to bring the boy to the only relation I've got in
the world," John answered tersely. "My wife's left me."

"Well, she's been a great while doing it," remarked Louisa, digging her
broom into the cracks of the piazza floor and making no pause for
reflection. "If she hadn't had the patience of Job and the meekness of
Moses, she'd have gone long before. Where'd she go?"

"I don't know; she didn't say."

"Did you take the trouble to look through the house for her? I ain't
certain you fairly know her by sight nowadays, do you?"

John flushed crimson, but bit his lip in an attempt to keep his temper.
"She left a letter," he said, "and she took Sue with her."

"That was all right; Sue's a nervous little thing and needs at least one
parent; she hasn't been used to more, so she won't miss anything. Jack's
like most of the Hathaways; he'll grow up his own way, without anybody's
help or hindrance. What are you going to do with him?"

"Leave him with you, of course. What else could I do?"

"Very well, I'll take him, and while I'm about it I'd like to give you a
piece of my mind."

John was fighting for self-control, but he was too wretched and
remorseful for rage to have any real sway over him.

"Is it the same old piece, or a different one?" he asked, setting his
teeth grimly. "I shouldn't think you'd have any mind left, you've given
so many pieces of it to me already."

"I have some left, and plenty, too," answered Louisa,