“Well, if I have nothing but rags, what more do I need in this old tomb of a place where no one ever comes from week’s end to week’s end? I know you’ll be mad, Aunt Thalia, but if you kill me for it, I’ll tell the truth at once! I sent that money to my sister!” Mrs. Barry’s face grew purple with wrath. She stamped furiously upon the carpeted floor. “Never say that word again!” she burst out fiercely. “You have no sister.” “My step-sister, then, Aunt Thalia,” amended Molly. A glance of concentrated scorn and anger shone on her through the glasses of Mrs. Barry. “Louise Barry, I thought you had more pride than to claim that girl--the daughter of the low-lived actress, who wheedled your father into marrying her, his second wife--your sister! The connection is a disgrace to you.” “Hush, Aunt Thalia. You must not talk so to me!” said the girl, sharply. She had grown quite pale, and her slender little hands were clinched tightly together. She bit her red lips fiercely, to keep back burning words that had rushed to their portals. Mrs. Barry snorted scornfully. “You take her part, eh? that low-born brat that her dying mother saddled on your aunt Lucy. Louise Barry, I’m ashamed of you, disappointed in you. I wish now that I had taken you here to live when your father died, then Lucy Everett would have had to send Molly Trueheart to the poor-house instead of supporting her on the money I have sent every year to you.” The girl stood looking at her with a heaving breast and eyes dilated with anger. When her aunt paused the girlish head was lifted proudly, and the young voice trembling with passion, answered sharply: “Molly Trueheart’s mother, the low-lived actress, as you call her, left her daughter a legacy, small, but sufficient to pay for her board and clothing. She would not have to go to the poor-house, even if Aunt Lucy turned her out-of-doors.” “Oh, indeed; I did not know she was an heiress. I thought she was a pauper. Why did you send her the money then, since she did not need it?” sharply. “I--I owed it to her, Aunt Thalia,” said the girl with a defiant air. “So then the allowance I have made you every year was not sufficient, and you had to borrow from that creature?” “Ye-es, madame,” in a stifled tone. “Very well, you shall never have that humiliation henceforth. It is not for Philip Barry’s daughter and my heiress to undergo such straits. Henceforth your home will be at Ferndale, and I’ll try to cure you of all fancy for your low-born connection. I’ll write to your aunt Lucy tonight and tell her so.” “I--I won’t stay!” stormed the girl, in sudden passionate defiance and terror commingled. Her black eyes blazed as she fixed them on Mrs. Barry’s face. The old lady gazed at her silently a moment as if almost paralyzed by astonishment.