e this and buy you sunthin' to remember
your pore old Uncle James by." He thrust a trembling hand toward her,
and offered her a twenty dollar bill.

"Why, Uncle!" she exclaimed. "I mustn't take this! Thank you ever so
much, but it isn't right!"

"I'd be pleased," he said plaintively. "'Taint as if I wan's accustomed
to money. My store was wuth five or six hundred dollars, and you've been
real pleasant to me, Niece Ruth. Buy a hair wreath for the parlour, or
sunthin' to remind you of your pore old Uncle."

Winfield pressed her arm warningly, and she tucked the bill into her
chatelaine bag. "Thank you, Uncle!" she said; then, of her own accord,
she stooped and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

A mist came into the old man's eyes, and he put his hand to his belt
again, but she hurriedly led Winfield away. "Ruth," he said, as they
went down the hill, "you're a sweet girl. That was real womanly kindness
to the poor devil."

"Shall I be equally kind to all 'poor devils'?"

"There's one more who needs you--if you attend to him properly, it will
be enough."

"I don't see how they're going to get Aunty's silk gown and a ring like
mine and a haircloth parlour suit and publish a book with less than two
hundred dollars, do you?"

"Hardly--Joe says that he gave Hepsey ten dollars. There's a great
discussion about the spending of it."

"I didn't know--I feel guilty."

"You needn't, darling. There was nothing else for you to do. How did you
succeed with your delicate mission?"

"I managed it," she said proudly. "I feel that I was originally destined
for a diplomatic career." He laughed when she described the lemonade set
which she had promised in his name.

"I'll see that the furniture is shipped tomorrow," he assured her; "and
then I'll go on a still hunt for the gaudy glassware. I'm blessed if I
don't give 'em a silver ice pitcher, too."

"I'm in for a table-cloth and a dozen napkins," laughed Ruth; "but I
don't mind. We won't bury Uncle's wedding present, will we?"

"I should say not! Behold the effect of the card, long before it's
printed."

"I know," said Ruth, seriously, "I'll get a silver spoon or something
like that out of the twenty dollars, and then I'll spend the rest of
it on something nice for Uncle James. The poor soul isn't getting any
wedding present, and he'll never know."

"There's a moral question involved in that," replied Winfield. "Is it
right to use his money in that way and assume the credi