“Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. ” “Yeah, they seem so nice. But let that verse tell my secret. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. She was fine and tender. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force.
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