“Frank,” she said. (“So he is Frank, _too_,” said Katie to herself.) “I have not presented you to my young friends. Mr. Frank St. Clair, Miss Russell (I see you have made acquaintance already), and Miss Trevor. Lucy, do you remember I once told you of a boy who was to me what your little Jock is to you? There he stands,” for Frank had risen to bow to his new acquaintance, and stood with his back to the window, shutting out what little light there was. “You were a very young aunt, certainly,” he said, “but I refuse to believe that Miss Trevor has anything to do with a second generation.” “Youth does not matter in that respect,” said Mrs. Rushton. “I was an aunt when I was three. There are a great many younger aunts than Lucy; but, as it happens, it is a little brother we are thinking of. And _à propos_, my dear, how _is_ little Jock? has he gone to school? it must be time he were at school.” “When you are ready, Lucy,” said Mr. Rushton, “I am going with you to see your father. Not to say a word against my good old friend Trevor, he is full of whims. Now, what is his fancy about that child? He will not bring him up as you have been brought up, Lucy.” “Because he has nothing to do with the money,” said Lucy, simply. “Papa thinks that a very good reason. I wish you would persuade him, Mr. Rushton; I can’t.” “And he tells you so!” said Mrs. Rushton, shaking her head; “he talks to you about your money, Lucy?” “Oh, yes, a great deal,” said Lucy. She spoke with perfect calm and composure, and they all looked at her with subdued admiration. Six pairs of eyes thus turned to her in the partial gloom. An heiress! and not ashamed of it, nor excited by it--taking it so calmly. Sighs that were all but prayers burst from, at least, three bosoms. Oh, that she but knew my Raymond! thought one; and, if Frank will but play his cards as he ought! breathed another; while Mr. St. Clair himself said within himself robustly and without any disguise, I wish I had it! There was no sentiment in the latter aspiration. Katie, for her part, looked across the tea-table at her friend with one of her sudden blushes, feeling her cheeks tingle. What were her feelings in respect to Lucy? In her case the wonder and interest were dashed with contempt, yet warmed by affection. Katie thought she despised money--not the abuse of it, nor the pride of it--but itself. Her soft little lip curled (or, at least, she tried to make it curl) with disdain at this meretricious advantage. She had said a hundred times that Lucy would be a very nice girl, the nicest girl in the school, if it were not for that money. She looked at her with a kind of angry love--half disposed to cry out, in Lucy’s defense, that she was far better than her fortune; and half to throw a gibe at her because she was rich. If they had been alone she would have done the latter. As it was, amid this party of people, with Mrs. Stone close by, and Miss Southwood’s little dark eyes twinkling at her out of