"Dear child, do not be so vain! Suppose you lost that fortune." "Then I'd kill myself. I would not live unbeautiful!" Poor Patty held up her hands in horror. CHAPTER XVII. A SHINING MEMORY. Yes, Mark, in plain phrases, had told his story. Mrs. Moray had opened the way, saying, frankly: "Have you anything to tell us?" "Yes. Doris is not my daughter. She was left, being two months old or thereabouts, on my door-step, with a letter and a hundred pounds. Here is the letter for you to read. I have done my best for the girl, and I love her. I have tried to meet the wishes of her unknown mother. And of that mother and her history I know no more than you. If this makes a difference, now is the time to speak." "It makes no difference," cried Earle; "only, if possible, I shall love her more than ever, she having no kith or kin." "I saw she did not look in the least like any of you," said Mrs. Moray, thoughtfully. Mark smiled. "Yes, she is fine china, we are delf. I have never hinted this thing to Doris, and whatever you decide, I wish the secret rigidly kept, as I have kept it." "What is there to decide!" cried Earle. "We are betrothed." "Your mother may think differently," said Mark. "Of course I am very sorry that the girl has no name or position," said Mrs. Moray. Earle flushed. "Her name will be our name, and her position I will make for her; and it will be honorable, I promise you." "You are a stanch fellow," said Mark. "But I pledge you to keep this secret always. The idea of being a foundling might make Doris miserable, drive her half wild. Or it might set her up to some queer caper. She has a fine spirit of her own." "Is she hard to manage?" asked Mrs. Moray, anxiously. "I never found her hard to manage," said Earle, the dauntless. "I hope you'll tell the same tale twenty years from now," said Mark, with a laugh. He felt glad this matter was settled. "We shall never mention it," said Mrs. Moray, yielding to the inevitable. "And on the wedding-day I'll give her a hundred pounds, and she shall have a hundred pounds in her outfit." "You are very generous, Mr. Brace," said Mrs. Moray. "Doris is quick and keen. She'll ask you, Earle, what we were saying out here. You may mention the hundred pounds." Just as he had foreseen, Doris questioned Earle, and he told her of the promised outfit and the wedding gift. All this reconciled her more to the idea of marrying. "My mother sha'n't interfere with what I get for my outfit," said she to herself. "I'll dress like a lady for once. One hundred pounds in clothes will make a very fair show." Alas, Patty, in her thrifty mind, had already destined part of this hundred pounds to sheeting and table-clothes, blankets and pillow-cases! A hundred pounds for clothes! Fie on the extravagance! A white mull for the wedding gown, a black silk, a cashmere. This was Patty's notion of a suitable bridal _trousseau_! "A hundred pounds on my wedding-day to use as I like."