She had been walking rapidly in the wind and her hair was a little blown about--not too much--for I hate frowsy hair--just enough to give precisely the right touch of "sweet neglect" and naturalness to a pretty and attractive girl. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes sparkling, her face lighted with some resolution which made it at once audacious and earnest, and as she came tripping into the room she suddenly transformed it by giving it something of reality which it had hitherto lacked. She appeared like spring coming after winter. She hurried up to her aunt (who, I must say, looked pleased to see her and gave Pushkin an arch glance which I did not fail to detect), and then, after a dutiful and hasty kiss, she pulled up a chair and dashed into the middle of the subject which filled her mind. She was so eager about it that she did not pay the least attention to Pushkin, who, with his heels close together, and his back almost turned on the other girl, who was rattling on at his ear, was bowing and grinning like a Japanese toy; and she did not even see me, where I stood a little retired. "My dear, here is Count Pushkin trying to speak to you," said her aunt. "Come here, Miss McSheen, and tell me what you have been doing." She smiled at the blonde girl and indicated a vacated chair. But Miss McSheen saw the trap--she had no idea of relinquishing her prize, and Miss Leigh did not choose to try for a capture. "Howdydo, Count Pushkin," she said over her shoulder, giving the smiling and bowing Pushkin only half a nod and less than half a glance. "Oh! aunt," she proceeded, "I have such a favor to ask you. Oh, it's a most worthy object, I assure you--really worthy." "How much is it?" inquired the older lady casually. "I don't know yet. But wait--you must let me tell you about it, and you will see how good it is." "My dear, I haven't a cent to give to anything," said her aunt. "I am quite strapped." "I know, it's the family disease," said the girl lightly, and hurried on. "I am trying to do some work among the poor." "The poor!" exclaimed her aunt. "My dear, I am so tired of hearing about the poor, I don't know what to do. I am one of the poor myself. My agent was here this morning and tells me that any number of my tenants are behind on their rents and several of my best tenants have given notice that on the expiration of their present terms, they want a reduction of their rents." "I know," said the girl. "They are out of work. They are all ordered out, or soon will be, papa says, poor things! I have been to-day to see a poor family----" "Out of work! Of course they are out of work! They _won't_ work, that's why they are out--and now they are talking of a general strike! As if they hadn't had strikes enough. I shall cut down my charities; that's what I shall do." "Oh! aunt, don't do that!" exclaimed the girl. "They are so poor. If you could see a poor family I saw this morning. Why, they have nothing--nothing! They are literally starving."