says, and be a good little girl,"
said Harry, and he went hastily out on the porch with his cigar.

Nothing irritated him so much as to see Maria weep for her mother. He
was one of those who wrestle and fight against grief, and to see it
thrust in his face by the impetus of another heart exasperated him,
although he could say nothing. It may be that, with his temperament,
it was even dangerous for him to cherish grief, and, for that very
reason, he tried to put his dead wife out of his mind, as she had
been taken out of his life.

"Well, men are different from women," Aunt Maria said to her niece
Maria one night, when Harry had gone out on the piazza, after he had
talked and laughed a good deal at the supper-table.

Harry Edgham heard the remark, and his face took on a set expression
which it could assume at times. He did not like his sister-in-law,
although he disguised the fact. She was very useful. His meals were
always on time, the house was as neatly kept as before, and Maria was
being trained as she had never been in household duties.

Maria was obedient, under silent protest, to her aunt. Often, after
she had been bidden to perform some household task, and obeyed, she
had gone to her own room and wept, and told herself that her mother
would never have put such things on her. She had no one in whom to
confide. She was not a girl to have unlimited intimates among other
girls at school. She was too self-centred, and, if the truth were
told, too emulative.

"Maria Edgham thinks she's awful smart," one girl would say to
another. They all admitted, even the most carping, that Maria was
pretty. "Maria Edgham is pretty enough, and she knows it," said they.
She was in the high school, even at her age, and she stood high in
her classes. There was always a sort of moral strike going on against
Maria, as there is against all superiority, especially when the
superiority is known to be recognized by the possessor thereof.

In spite of her prettiness, she was not a favorite even among the
boys. They were, as a rule, innocent as well as young, but they would
rather have snatched a kiss from such a pretty, dainty little
creature than have had her go above them in the algebra class. It did
not seem fitting. Without knowing it, they were envious. They would
not even acknowledge her cleverness, not even Wollaston Lee, for whom
Maria entertained a rudimentary affection. He was even rude to her.

"Maria Edgham is awful stuck