d her aunt went into the other side of the
house, and Aunt Maria, who had been waxing fairly explosive, told the
tale of poor little Jessy Ramsey going to school with no
undergarments.

"It's a shame!" said Eunice, who was herself nervous and easily
aroused to indignation. She sat up straight and the hollows on her
thin cheeks blazed, and her thin New England mouth tightened.

"George Ramsey ought to do something if he is earning as much as they
say he is," said Aunt Maria.

"That is so," said Eunice. "It doesn't make any difference if they
are so distantly related. It is the same name and the same blood."

Henry Stillman laughed his sardonic laugh. "You can't expect the
flowers to look out for the weeds," he said. "George Ramsey and his
mother are in full blossom; they have fixed up their house and are
holding up their heads. You can't expect them to look out for poor
relations who have gone to the bad, and done worse--got too poor to
buy clothes enough to keep warm."

Maria suddenly sprang to her feet. "I know what I am going to do,"
she announced, with decision, and made for the door.

"What on earth are you going to do?" asked her aunt Maria.

"I am going straight in there, and I am going to tell them how that
poor little thing came to school to-day, and tell them they ought to
be ashamed of themselves."

Before the others fairly realized what she was doing, Maria was out
of the house, running across the little stretch which intervened. Her
aunt Maria called after her, but she paid no attention. She was at
that moment ringing the Ramsey bell, with her pretty, uncovered hair
tossing in the December wind.

"She will catch her own death of cold," said Aunt Maria, "running out
without anything on her head."

"She will just get patronized for her pains," said Eunice, who had a
secret grudge against the Ramseys for their prosperity and their
renovated house, a grudge which she had not ever owned to her inmost
self, but which nevertheless existed.

"She doesn't stop to think one minute; she's just like her father
about that," said Aunt Maria.

Henry Stillman said nothing. He took up his paper, which he had been
reading when Maria and his sister entered.

Meantime, Maria was being ushered into the Ramsey house by a maid who
wore a white cap. The first thing which she noticed as she entered
the house was a strong fragrance of flowers. That redoubled her
indignation.

"These Ramseys can buy flowers in midwi