“And pray, miss, what do you mean by that?” he asked, turning almost fiercely upon her. “Surely a man of Mr. Sharp’s talent and erudition can have no difficulty in understanding words so simple,” she replied, with a twinkle of fun in her eye. “Come, don’t let’s quarrel to-day of all days in the year,” put in her mother good-humoredly. “Here’s John, anyhow,” as the lad came briskly in with a “Merry Christmas to you all!” “Where have you been, sir, that you are so late to this very late breakfast?” asked his father, ignoring the greeting. “Round to the grocer’s on the corner, sir.” “Doing an errand for me,” said Hetty, “and he’s not to be scolded; for if it hadn’t been for him--getting me kindling to hurry up my fire, and assisting in various ways--breakfast would have been later than it is.” “Where now, Prudence?” Mrs. Sharp had risen hastily and pushed back her chair. “I must go up and see if Araminta is sick, Thorne; the poor thing was too tired yesterday with her journey to do anything but lounge about.” “Humph! I dare say; you are ruining that child with your coddling.” “Ah, here she comes! Lucian too,” said Mrs. Sharp in a relieved tone, resuming her seat as the door opened and a girl of fifteen, looking only half awake and far from neat, in a loose, somewhat soiled morning dress and hair in crimps, came languidly in, followed by a lad some four years older, the veritable counterpart of his father in appearance and manners. The latter had a scowl and rebuke for each, which were received as matters of course. “Don’t scold ’em, Thorne,” said their aunt; “the poor things have so much book attention when they’re at school!” “You’re rather late, children,” the mother remarked, helping them bountifully; “times are changed since you were little things. Then we could hardly keep you from waking us too soon Christmas morning.” “That was when we were children indeed, and hung up our stockings,” said Lucian, “and didn’t know what was in them. Now you just give us the money and let us buy for ourselves.” A loud peal from the door-bell sent Patsy flying out to the hall. She returned in a moment with a letter, two packages, and the morning paper. “For me! I know they are!” cried Araminta, waking up. “Here, Patsy, give them to me. Dear me, no! how provoking! they’re every one directed to Miss Kemper,” and she looked around inquiringly. Upon that John introduced the two, and Floy’s property was somewhat reluctantly resigned to her. She had finished her meal, and, asking to be excused, was leaving the room, when an exclamation from John, who was glancing over the paper, stayed her steps. “Lea! what Lea is it, I wonder?--‘was arrested yesterday on a criminal charge, and has committed suicide. His affairs are found to be hopelessly involved.’” “Doesn’t it give his Christian name?” asked Mrs. Sharp, with interest. “Yes: Abner.” “Just so; there’s a good customer lost!” she exclaimed in a tone of vexation.