"I have a large library," continued Aunt Ella, "and she may find many books in it that will be of use to her. Robert spent eighteen thousand dollars on it, and I've bought a couple of thousand dollars' worth more since his death. Now, what do you say, Quincy? You know I will do all in my power to make her comfortable and happy while she is here. If Maude runs up, and she's the only one that is likely to, I will tell her that I have friends here from England. I will keep her out of the way. Will you bring her?" "If she will come, I will," Quincy replied. "You will never repent it," said Aunt Ella. "Now let us go upstairs." When they reached her room the cigars and cigarettes were again in requisition. "I kept my promise the other day, Quincy," said she, "when the three girls were here. What a sweet, rosy-cheeked, healthy, happy trio they were! I wasn't more than twenty myself that day. I give you my solemn promise, Quincy, that I won't smoke a cigarette nor drink a glass of wine while Alice is here,--until after she goes to bed; and then I'll eat a clove and air the room out thoroughly before I let her in in the morning." Quincy was up early next morning, and at ten minutes of nine reached the lodging house in Myrtle Street. He had taken a carriage, for he knew Miss Very would have her luggage, probably a trunk. His call at the door was answered by a sharp-eyed, hatchet-faced woman, whose face was red with excitement. To Quincy's inquiry if Miss Very was in, the woman replied, "that she was in and was likely to stay in." "I trust she is not sick," said Quincy. "No! she ain't sick," the woman replied, "what you mean by sick; but there's worse things than bein' sick, especially when a poor widder has a big house rent to pay and coal seven dollars and a half a ton." A small trunk, neatly strapped, stood in the hallway. Glancing into the stuffy little parlor, he saw a woman, apparently young, with her veil down, seated on a sofa, with a large valise on the floor and a hand bag at her side. Quincy divined the situation at once. Stepping into the hallway, he closed the parlor door, and, turning to the woman, said, "How much?" "Three dollars," replied the woman, "and it's cheap enough for--" "A miserable little dark stuffy side room, without any heat, up three flights, back," broke in Quincy, as he passed her the money. The woman was breathless with astonishment and anger. Taking advantage of this, Quincy opened the parlor door, first beckoning to the coachman to come in and get the trunk. "Miss Very, I presume?" said Quincy, as he advanced towards the young lady on the sofa. She arose as he approached, and answered, "Yes, sir." "Come with me, please," said he, grasping the valise. She hesitated; he understood why. "It's all right," he said, in a low tone. "I've settled with the landlady, and you can settle with me any time."