"What, that? I have had it six months at least; besides, I saw another just like it at the hotel, and that is enough to disgust one with anything. If people will pattern after me, I can't help it. Then again one gets so tired of the same thing." "But I have no more money." "Can't you draw a check?" "My check-book is at the office." "Always so when I want anything. Now, Dempster, this is too bad." "Well," says Dempster, desperately, "get the thing, and tell Stewart to charge it?" Cousin E. E. turned her face away. It was awful cloudy, and I could see that she was biting her lips. She had an awful long bill at Stewart's already. Then her face lighted up. "Can't I have them sent C. O. D., by express? You will have time to get plenty of money before then," says she, as soft as silk weed. "I hate the system," says Dempster; "money in hand is the only way a lady should make purchases. Then she knows what she is about. Everything else leads to extravagance. I hate bills as if they were copperheads; they are things I never will forgive." I saw that E. E. turned pale, and a red flush came around her eyes as if she were just ready to burst out a-crying. Dempster thought it was because he had stood out about the money and gave in a trifle. "For this once," says he, "have the things charged, but bring the bill with you. I must know what I am about in these matters." "But I mightn't find them all in one place. Hadn't we better make it a C. O. D., just for once?" says she, pleading for her own way as if her mouth were full of humble pie. "Do as you please for this once," says he, half out of patience, "but remember, I am set against bills and running accounts--pay as you go along, is my motto." E. E. drew a deep breath, and, putting the money in a little mite of a leather satchel fastened to her side by a belt, took up her parasol and prepared to march off. Cecilia followed after, surveying her little toadstool of a parasol, and stooping forward as she walked, like an undersized kangaroo. I only wish E. E., or even Cousin Dempster, could see that child as I see her. But they can't. Where she is concerned, they seem born fools, both of them. Well, off we went one way, and Dempster the other--he to get the money, and his wife to spend it. I looked on, and wondered how any man living could afford to get married. The whole thing made me down-hearted, and half-ashamed of my relationship with a woman who could worry money out of her husband like that, and not feel how mean she was--could not my cousin see that she was poisoning the soul of her own child by an example which she was just as certain to follow as she was to live.