it, then?"

"Monroe wants it, and will give a small advance on its cost."

"But Monroe was at the sale; why didn't he bid for it then?"

"A very natural question, Sister Marcia; but it shows that you are not a
manager. However, I'll explain. Monroe was struck with the picture, and
would have given a foolish price for it. So I said to him,--'Monroe,
don't be rash. If two connoisseurs like you and me bid against each
other for this landscape, other buyers will think there is something in
it, and the price will be run up to a figure neither of us can afford to
pay. Let me buy it and keep it a month or so, and then we'll agree on
the terms. I sha'n't be hard with you.' And I won't be. He shall have it
for a hundred, although I paid eighty-seven and odd."

"So you speculate, where you pretend to patronize Art?"

"Don't use harsh words, Sister Marcia. Half the difficulties in the
world come from a hasty application of terms."

"But I want the picture; and I didn't ask you to buy it merely to oblige
Mr. Greenleaf."

"True, sister, but he will paint others, and better ones, perhaps. I
will buy another in its place."

"And sell it when you get a good offer, I suppose."

"Sister Marcia, you evince a thoughtless disposition to trifle with--I
hope not to wound--my feelings. How do you suppose I am able to maintain
my position in society, to support Charles in his elegant idleness, to
supply all your wants, and to help carry on the many benevolent
enterprises in which I have become engaged, on the small amount of
property left us, and with the slender salary of fifteen hundred dollars
from the Insurance Office? If I had not some self-denial, some
management, you would find quite a different state of things."

"But I remember that you drew your last year's salary in a lump. You
must have had money from some source for current expenses meanwhile."

"Some few business transactions last year were fortunate. But I am poor,
quite poor; and nothing but a sense of duty impels me to give so much of
my time and means to aid the unfortunate and the destitute, and for the
promotion of education and the arts that beautify and adorn life."

His wits were probably "wool-gathering"; for the phrases which had been
so often conned for public occasions slipped off his tongue quite
unawares. His countenance changed at once when Marcia mischievously
applauded by clapping her hands and crying, "Hear!" He paused a moment,
seeming doubtful whe