"Now it's coming!" he thought and faced her again; he was bracing himself mentally to meet the announcement. "Did you see the junk man at The Corners to-day about those shingle nails?" In the second of hesitation before replying, he had time inwardly to curse her. She was always letting him down in this way. It was a trick of hers when, to use his own expression, she had "something up her sleeve." "Yes; but he won't take them off our hands." "Why not?" She spoke sharply as was her way when she suspected any thwarting of her will or desire. "He says he won't give you your price for they ain't worth it. They ain't particular good for old iron anyway; most on 'em's rusty and crooked. You know they've been on the old coach house for good thirty years, and the Judge used to say--" "What will he give?" "A quarter of a cent a pound." "How many pounds are there?" "Fifty-two." "Fifty-two--hm-m; he sha'n't have them. They're worth a half a cent a pound if they're worth anything. You can store them in the workshop till somebody comes along that does want them, and will pay." He turned again to leave her. "Just a moment, Octavius." Once more he came back over the threshold. "Were there any arrivals at The Greenbush to-night?" "I judged so from the register." "Did you happen to see a girl there?" "I saw a child, a little girl, smallish and thin; a priest was with her." "A priest?" Mrs. Champney looked nonplussed for a moment and put on her glasses to cover her surprise. "Did you learn her name, the girl's?" "It was in the register, Aileen Armagh, from an orphan asylum in New York." "Then she's the one," she said in a musing tone but without the least expression of interest. She removed her glasses. Octavius took a step backwards. "A moment more, Octavius. I may as well speak of it now; I am only anticipating by a week or two, at the most, what, in any case, I should have told you. While Mr. Van Ostend was here, he enlisted my sympathy in this girl to such an extent that I decided to keep her for a few months on trial before making any permanent arrangement in regard to her. I want to judge of her capability to assist Ann and Hannah in the housework; Hannah is getting on in years. What do you think of her? How did she impress you? Now that I have decided to give her a trial, you may speak freely. You know I am guided many times by your judgment in such matters." Octavius Buzzby could have ground his teeth in impotent rage at this speech which, to his accustomed ears, rang false from beginning to end, yet was cloaked in terms intended to convey a compliment to himself. But, instead, he smiled the equivocal smile with which many a speech of like tenor had been greeted, and replied with marked earnestness: "I wouldn't advise you, Mrs. Champney, to count on much assistance from a slip of a thing like that. She's small, and don't look more 'n nine, and--"