e, "when I look around me this winter
and see all the want and suffering on every side--the absolute
destitution in places--I think my fortune regal. I only wish all the
girls I know of were half as well-to-do."

Forrest drew a long breath. "Well, of all the incarnations of pluck and
cheerfulness I ever heard of, commend me to this," thought he. They were
within two squares of home, and at the corner was a large family grocery
store. She faltered now. "I'm very much obliged to you for coming with
me so far, and--I have to stop here."

"But only to make some purchases. You are going on to tea, and I have
something I want to say."

"I may have to wait, and you have your engagements."

"Nothing in the world but to dine, _solus_, at the Virginia, and my
appetite's about gone. I mean to wait, Miss Wallen."

Miss Wallen flushed, but made no further remonstrance. Entering the
store, she gave her orders. Some little packages of tea and sugar were
speedily ready. In the window were some pyramids of Florida oranges,
rich and luscious fruit. Watching her with uncontrollable interest, he
saw her eyes glancing towards them, saw and knew the question framed by
her soft lips, saw and realized what was passing as the salesman
answered and she shook her head. Turning to another clerk, he pencilled
a number on a card he handed him and gave some orders of his own.
Presently she stored her change in the little portemonnaie and picked
up her bundles. Promptly he relieved her of them, and again as they came
forth he tendered his arm. The side street into which they turned was
darker than the broad avenue. The houses were poor and cheap, the
gas-lamps few and far between. Silently now they walked rapidly along,
for he was deep in thought. He longed to find some way of opening the
subject uppermost in his mind, but knew not how. At last he spoke:

"Miss Wallen, where and how can I see your brother? I've an idea of a
place he might fill. He is unmarried, I presume?"

Silence a moment. "No, Mart has a wife."

"A wife? Where is she? What does she do?"

"She isn't strong, and can't do much of anything."

"Not even mend his clothes, or stop---- How about children?"

"You know the old adage," said she, with a quiet smile, "and Mart is a
poor man."

"And they, too, are your care--you their support--and--this has been
going on since last year?"

"Oh, no; Mart gets odd jobs now and then."

"The proceeds of which he spends in---- But I