"What is that you are saying?" demands Mrs. Cleveland, sharply. "'Not when we have wronged them,' eh? Beware, girl, how you let that sharp tongue of yours run on. You may chance to see the inside of the alms-house!" But Vera, biting her lips fiercely, in mute shame at that angry slip of the tongue in presence of the dead, makes no answer. Dropping the white sheet back over the sealed lips that cannot open to defend her child, she buries her face in the pillow, trembling all over with indignation and grief. Mrs. Cleveland stands contemplating her a moment with a look of contemptuous scorn on her high, Roman features, then, to Vera's amazement, she exclaims: "One of the servants told me that Leslie Noble brought a preacher in here last night. Was it to administer the sacrament to the dying?" No answer from Vera, whose face remains buried in the pillow. "Speak!" Mrs. Cleveland commands, coming a step nearer, "did he come to administer the consolations of religion to the dying?" "No," Vera answers, lifting her white face a moment, and looking steadily into her enemy's questioning eyes. "No." "No," Mrs. Cleveland echoes, with a look of alarm. "What then, girl, what then?" But Vera, with the strange reply, "You must ask Mr. Noble--he will inform you," drops her pallid face into her hands again. Mrs. Cleveland makes a step forward, resolving in her own mind "to shake the breath out of that stubborn girl," but even her wicked nature is awed by the still presence of death in the room, and she desists from her heartless purpose, and, retreating to the door, pauses with her hand on the latch to say, icily: "Your mother's funeral will take place from the Epiphany Church this afternoon. Mourning garments will be sent to your room for you to wear." Vera springs to her feet with a heart-wrung cry: "So soon! Oh, my God, you will not bury her out of my sight to-day, when she only died last night!" Mrs. Cleveland's haughty features are convulsed with anger. "Hush, you little fool!" she bursts out, angrily. "Do you think that dead people are such enlivening company that one need keep them in the house any longer than is necessary to provide a hearse and coffin? Only died last night, forsooth! Well, she is as dead now as she will be a hundred years hence, and the funeral will take place this afternoon. You will be ready to attend, if you understand what is good for yourself." So saying, she sweeps from the room, slamming the door heavily behind her.