THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mrs. Charles S. Aiktft 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BWBSITY OF CA 
 RIVERSfOF
 
 CHARLES SEDGWICK AIKEN 
 EDNAH AIKEN
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny
 
 A LITTLE SISTER 
 OF DESTINY 
 
 BY GELETT BURGESS 
 
 Author of "Vwette" 
 
 Boston and New York 
 Houghton, Mifflin & Company 
 Ktoewtoe press, CamiriUje 
 1906
 
 Copyright, 1905, 
 By the Curtis Publishing Company 
 
 Copyright, 1906, 
 By Gelett Burgess 
 
 Published April igob
 
 To I. H. G. 
 
 Romance is in the scabbard^ Adventure in the blade ; 
 Before the sword is flourished has Fancy all essayed 
 The moment ere I met her abounded like a dream 
 Romance is in the shadow ', Adventure in the gleam !
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PROLOGUE 3 
 
 I. THE STORY OF THE PRIVATE SECRETARY 7 
 
 II. SALLY THE SCROYLE 33 
 
 III. THE WHAUP AND THE WHIMBREL . 71 
 
 IV. THE MURDER OF M. ELPHINSTONE . m 
 V. A MIRACLE IN B-FLAT 143 
 
 VI. A CHRISTMAS CINDERELLA . . . .179 
 
 VII. NOT TO SPEAK OF CICELY .... 205 
 
 VIII. THE NEW YORK & ARCADY RAILROAD 239
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 I HAVE called my heroine Miss Million , for 
 several reasons. First, she was one of a mil 
 lion, though you may perhaps say that one 
 such is enough. Second, she was one of millions 
 how many, precisely, I cant say ; ten were all she 
 owned up to. She had been left the sole heiress to 
 so rich a California estate that I might call her 
 the Princess Tehema, though the way she used her 
 fortune, rather than its amount, justifies that title. 
 
 Her ranch in that county can vie with any 
 of the lesser principalities of Europe in size and 
 revenue and semi-feudal loyalty. Her wealth, how 
 ever, did not come alone from its wheat, cattle, 
 sheep, and wines, and the rentals of subdivisions 
 themselves big enough to make conspicuous spots 
 upon the map of California ; for a half-dozen 
 placer mines on the Sacramento River and a few 
 railroads were also under her control. 
 
 But my third reason is the best of all. I dont 
 care to have her real name known, nor would she 
 like to be identified as the heroine of these tales, 
 for, so far, romance has been possible to her only 
 
 [3]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 because few were acquainted with her, or, knowing 
 her, were aware of her fortune as you shall see 
 in my chronicles. 
 
 So, that you may regard them as pure fiction, 
 I shall relate them in the third person, patching 
 together what I saw, what she told me, and what 
 I found out afterward. 
 
 She herself would be the first to admit to the 
 reproachful sociologist that what she gave away 
 was given in " sentimental charity" But I like 
 to think that after all was done, it was not the 
 money she gave that was most valued, but that 
 knowing her was something infinitely more pre 
 cious, something long to be remembered. 
 
 Adventures come to the adventurous, and Miss 
 Million had a genius for Romance. Her spirit 
 was that of Mile, de Maupin, but her quest was 
 not altogether selfish. She sought, too, Romance 
 rather than Adventure no one ever knew better 
 the fine distinction between the two, no one's 
 imagination ever so illumined a commonplace situ 
 ation with dramatic potentialities. 
 
 I call her a Little Sister of Destiny because of 
 a sympathy, a talent, and a will that enabled her 
 to act as a goddess from the machine, interposing 
 her love to defeat Fate. 
 [4]
 
 Prologue 
 
 Never was a man so gallant towards women as 
 she, wherefore it is always another woman who 
 is the nominal heroine of these tales ; yet if I 
 give but glimpses of Miss Million, those hints 
 show her more truly in mind and character than 
 if I set her in the centre of the stage. That, in 
 deed, was never her place if she could help it ; 
 she was a sort of Stage Director where " all the 
 world's a stage" and part playwright, part 
 prompter, too. 
 
 Enough for the Prologue : let me raise the cur 
 tain upon my own initiation. 
 
 Miss Million was in New Tork for the first 
 time in her life she knew scarcely any one save 
 her lawyers she was young, ardent, fanciful, 
 rich and it was spring. There 'j a spirited 
 orchestra of the emotions for you !
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 AT exactly three o'clock Winton Rayne 
 lighted a cigarette. The green shades 
 had been drawn down in the windows 
 of the front door, and the bank was closed. A 
 few favored customers, arriving in a hurry, were 
 admitted, it is true, but the official discipline 
 of the bank was relaxed. Amongst these tardy 
 arrivals, Rayne, checking up his stubs, noticed, 
 with leisurely approval, a young woman clad 
 in gray, who loitered for a moment within view 
 of his window. She was smartly dressed, but 
 with that elegant simplicity which appeals most 
 strongly to the masculine taste. Her hat was 
 one smooth, untrimmed toque, all of gray breast 
 feathers, the plunder of a score of birds, broken 
 only by two soft creases on top. Her gloves 
 and shoes were gray as well, and in her hand 
 she carried a gray suede purse. A girdle of 
 dull silver completed the harmony. Rayne, 
 unfortunately, could not make out her face, 
 
 [7]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 but from her trim figure and graceful carriage 
 it promised much. 
 
 He turned to his accounts, and lost sight of 
 her in the search, with Briggs, of the one cent 
 which prevented his books from balancing. This 
 took some time. It was nearly four before he 
 went to his locker, changed his thin black office 
 jacket for his street coat, found his stick, and 
 left the bank. 
 
 It was a clear, balmy spring afternoon, and 
 the prospect of a walk up the avenue allured 
 him. There was nothing on his mind now but 
 the glad welcome of the season and the prospect 
 of three hours' enjoyment of its friendliness. 
 His afternoon and his evening were free, and 
 he did not look fifteen minutes ahead, resolving 
 to embrace any whim of the moment. 
 
 He was crossing Twenty-Third Street when 
 a red automobile shot past him. He watched 
 it elude the traffic, skillfully manoeuvre across 
 Broadway, and slow down by the monument 
 beyond. It was driven by a woman, who was 
 alone in the vehicle. It took but a second glance 
 to assure Rayne that she was the lady in gray 
 who had visited the bank. He increased his 
 pace. 
 
 [8]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 When he reached Twenty-Sixth Street, the 
 machine was about a block ahead of him, but 
 it was running at slow speed. He saw the 
 chauffeuse turn, and with some premonition of 
 good fortune he hurried forward. Just before 
 reaching Twenty-Eighth Street, the car drew 
 up to the curb and stopped, but its occupant 
 made no motion to descend. Rayne walked 
 up as slowly as he dared. 
 
 Just as he was abreast of her, trying not to 
 stare, the young woman leaned slightly towards 
 him and called his name. He halted, in some 
 excitement, and raised his hat. 
 
 " This is Mr. Rayne, is it not ? " an ex 
 tremely soft and pleasant voice inquired. 
 
 " Why, yes ! " he stammered. 
 
 " Don't you want to come to ride ? " she 
 asked, as if mimicking some teasing child. " I 'm 
 so tired of going about alone." 
 
 He jumped in on the instant, but his sur 
 prise was too great for him to find words with 
 which to answer her. She started the machine 
 immediately, and they sped up Fifth Avenue. 
 
 Her face was so whimsically charming, her 
 manners so piquantly demure, that for some 
 time Rayne could not emerge from his wonder 
 
 [9]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 and embarrassment. She made no attempt to 
 help him, but attended with a prettily business 
 like skill to the direction of her car. Her red 
 lips were twitching, however, and her hazel eyes 
 danced when she ventured to cast a second's 
 look at him. From time to time, as he kept 
 his silence, her delicate black brows were raised, 
 and fell again. As they came into Upper Fifth 
 Avenue and the quiet of the Park, however, 
 she looked him mischievously in the face. 
 
 " Well," she said, " what are you think- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I am thinking what luck I 'm having," he 
 answered, "and wondering how long it will 
 last." 
 
 " During good behavior," she replied, smil 
 ing in encouragement. 
 
 " Oh, I '11 be good I 'm afraid I '11 be too 
 good!" Rayne gasped. The blood was singing 
 in his veins. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " she commanded. " Don't kill 
 the goose that laid the golden egg ! Are n't you 
 wondering why you 're chosen for my compan 
 ion ? " 
 
 " I don't dare," he admitted, " for fear you Ve 
 been deceived in some way. Don't investigate 
 [10]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 me too sharply. I 'm hoping you won't find 
 that I 'm a mistake." 
 
 She laughed merrily, with an imp in her eye 
 that entranced him. She was mistress of the 
 situation, and it was futile for him to question 
 himself as to its probable meaning. He did not 
 care. So long as he could be with her and revel 
 in the delight of that fresh, jubilant, mischiev 
 ous face, he was content with the mystery. So 
 they sped on gayly, exchanging nonsense in a 
 quick helter-skelter, rattle-pated dialogue, she 
 always one or two flashing, smiling jokes in 
 the lead. They turned into the Park and came 
 back towards the city slowly. She stopped her 
 car near a cross-path, and before he could help 
 her she had leaped lightly out. 
 
 " Come and take a walk ! " she commanded. 
 
 Rayne lost no time following her. He was 
 cool now, and master of himself, though eagerly 
 curious to catch some hint which might explain 
 the situation. They had not walked far before his 
 vivacious entertainer espied a vacant bench and 
 sat herself on it. Rayne followed her example. 
 
 " I suppose you think I 'm mad," she sug 
 gested, drawing crosses in the gravel with her 
 toe.
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " I think I must be," he replied. " It cer 
 tainly does n't seem real life to me ! " 
 
 " Confess you want to know who I am ? " 
 she went on. 
 
 " It would be no compliment to you if I 
 
 did n't,'' ne sa id. 
 
 " Well, I '11 tell you, and it will be more than 
 half true. I am absolutely my own mistress, I 
 am rich enough not to have to be conventional, 
 old enough to know what my youth is worth, 
 young enough to believe that no one will think 
 ill of me if I speak my mind, as honest as a 
 woman ever dares to be, and an inveterate be 
 liever in the possible romance of the common 
 place. Oh, dear ! just look at that funny old 
 man." 
 
 Rayne turned his eyes and saw the very stage 
 caricature of an antiquated German approaching, 
 reading a newspaper as he walked. He held it 
 to his near-sighted eyes so closely that he could 
 scarcely see where he was going. As he drew 
 nearer, he stopped, looked about, and, making 
 out their bench, sat down upon the end, taking 
 off his hat to the lady beside him. Then he 
 removed his spectacles, placed them in a case, 
 and put them down beside him. From a paper 
 
 [12]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 bag in his pocket he drew out a piece of bread, 
 which he crumbed and scattered upon the gravel 
 for the sparrows. 
 
 The young lady in gray had been watching 
 him in amusement. She turned, now, and whis 
 pered to Rayne, " Listen ! I Ve got the old 
 man's spectacles here in my hand, where he 
 can't find them. Come along, we'll walk on 
 and leave him, and see what he does when he 
 misses them ! " As she spoke, she arose and 
 walked swiftly away. In an instant Rayne was 
 after her. He had turned suddenly red, and his 
 hands were clenched nervously. 
 
 " I 'm afraid you have made some mistake," 
 he said, in a voice he could scarcely control. 
 " I am not the person you were looking for. I 
 can't see such a practical joke played on any 
 one, least of all such a poor old man as that. 
 Surely you 're not going to be so cruel ! Won't 
 you let me return his glasses see, he 's look 
 ing for them now. I 'm sorry to seem to be a 
 prig, but " 
 
 " Please don't say another word," said his 
 companion. " I 'm ashamed of myself already. 
 Here they are I haven't the face to give 
 them back myself. But wait a moment." 
 
 ['3]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 She opened her gray bag and took a bill from 
 her purse. Quick as were her motions, Rayne's 
 eyes, sharpened by his work in the bank, were 
 quicker. It was a hundred-dollar bill. She 
 caught his surprised expression. " Really, I 
 have nothing smaller," she said apologetically, 
 and as she smiled up to him there were tears 
 in her eyes. She tucked the note into the spec 
 tacle-case, and waited while he went over to the 
 old man and returned it. Then they walked 
 towards her car. 
 
 " I 'm afraid to ask you what I was going 
 to ask," she said archly. " But, would you 
 do you think you 'd like to come to dinner 
 with me, Mr. Rayne ? " She had cast down 
 her eyes coquettishly. " I want to be amused, 
 to-night, and and there are other reasons. 
 You may come as you are, for we'll be alone." 
 
 " c Breathes there a man with soul so dead ' ' 
 he began. 
 
 " All right, we must hurry, then," she said, 
 " for though it is n't necessary for you to dress, 
 it is for me ! " 
 
 Just before they reentered the automobile, 
 she stopped again. " I 'm going to be silly and 
 melodramatic," she announced. "Are you will- 
 [*4]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 ing to go blindfold till we get to my apart 
 ments ? " Rayne smiled and nodded. " Take 
 these smoked glasses and put the goggles over 
 them, then," she said, " and I trust to your 
 honor to keep your eyes closed until we are at 
 home." 
 
 He did as she requested, and the car started. 
 It went swiftly, turned several corners, and at 
 last stopped. The girl took Rayne by the arm 
 and helped him descend to the sidewalk ; then 
 she walked him up a few steps, across a marble 
 hall. He felt himself rising in an elevator. 
 
 A door was opened and shut, and they had 
 entered. " Look ! " she said. 
 
 He saw a great hall furnished in the most 
 extravagaritly complete style of Indian art. 
 The walls were entirely covered with Navajo 
 and Hop" blankets. There was a frieze of 
 Apache hide-shields, each painted with a brave's 
 totem, and beneath, a solid cornice of buffalo 
 skulls. Puma-skins carpeted the floor; at least 
 a hundred baskets trimmed with partridge 
 feathers were scattered about; trophies of In 
 dian bows, arrows, lances, war-clubs, toma 
 hawks, pipes, and knives decorated the wall 
 spaces. Two couches were made up of Zuni 
 
 C'5]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 bead-work ornaments and buckskin embroid 
 eries. In spite of all this, it was a tastefully 
 designed room, rather than a museum, flaming 
 with color and vibrant with virility. 
 
 Rayne had but a glance about before he was 
 taken into a reception-room as perfectly if 
 more soberly furnished. 
 
 " Now," said his hostess, " you must amuse 
 yourself for half an hour, while I get ready. 
 Look at anything that interests you, and smoke, 
 if you like, provided you smoke my cigarettes 
 I can endure nothing but Spanish tobacco." 
 She pointed to a package of " La Justicias," 
 and bowing mockingly, left the room. 
 
 Winton Rayne looked about him. The 
 room was purest Colonial, and his eye ranged 
 from the fine Sheraton sideboard to the high 
 boy, the Martha Washington work-table, the 
 Chippendale chairs, the kidney-shaped table, 
 the circular concave mirror, the goose-legged 
 grandfather chair, the tall clock, and a quaint 
 bookcase, with fanciful panes making odd pat 
 terns in its doors. This was filled with books ; 
 it might give some clue. He ran his eyes over 
 the titles on the calfskin backs, " The Story 
 of Peter Wilkins," " The Fourth Dimension," 
 [16]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 " Essays of Montaigne," " Memoirs of Casa 
 nova," " The Life Romance of an Algebraist," 
 " Sylvie and Bruno, Concluded," " The Song 
 of Hiawatha," "The Shoes That Danced," 
 " Our Mutual Friend," what could one make 
 of such a collection as that ! 
 
 Then he turned to an alluring piece of fur 
 niture in the corner, a mahogany secretary. Its 
 lid was let down, showing two rows of pigeon 
 holes and drawers, and strewed in confusion 
 upon the writing-pad were at least a dozen let 
 ters. He cast one quick look and turned away, 
 lest he should permit his eye to be too in 
 quisitive with the addresses. His glance was 
 thoughtless, but he congratulated himself that 
 it did not betray the name he would have liked 
 so much to know. As it was, either the en 
 velopes showed only their backs, or had their 
 faces sufficiently covered to conceal the writing. 
 He sat down upon a huge sofa with rolling 
 swan-headed sides, and took up a book. From 
 time to time he cast a look towards the secre 
 tary, but he did not move from his seat. 
 
 She came down to him as the tall clock, 
 moon-dialed, struck seven. She came in as still 
 as a ghost, luminous with jewels, transcendent 
 
 E'7]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 in a royally simple costume of white lace. He 
 rose and gasped, so wonderfully was she ar 
 rayed, as if in mists and starlight. She cast 
 down her eyes in roguery and awaited his com 
 ment. 
 
 He could think of nothing better to do than 
 drop to his knee in the old manner, and kiss 
 the hand which she outstretched. Yet it was 
 hard to play up to the romance of the situation, 
 and he found himself striving above all things 
 to be natural, to make himself worth while to 
 her who had so graciously honored him. She 
 had changed subtly, so subtly that at first he 
 thought it only because of the bewildering ele 
 gance of her costume that she seemed a trace 
 more remote. But he soon saw it was not that ; 
 she was as full of mischievous smiles, as sweet 
 in her trust of him, but she was receding from 
 that familiarity with which she had flattered him 
 by daylight. Yet the change was so slight as 
 not to chill his ardor. 
 
 Dinner was announced by a maid, and the 
 two entered the dining-room. It was so large 
 that it might almost be called a hall, but the 
 charm of a smaller apartment was preserved by 
 setting the table on a raised and recessed plat- 
 [18]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 form underneath a gallery at the far end. This 
 blazed with candles, making a rich spot of 
 color, like the stage of a theatre, and from his 
 seat there Rayne could look down into the 
 dusk of the main room, with its rose window 
 in the end wall. It was all like a dream, the 
 lights, the sparkling crystal, the flash of gold 
 plate, the vases of dewy cyclamen ; and above 
 all, the bewitching curves and curls and smiles 
 of the face opposite made him giddy. He 
 looked away to the shadowy walls below him 
 and tried to steady his reason. 
 
 They talked of what, Rayne afterwards 
 tried vainly to recall. They laughed, jested, 
 drank to each other impromptu toasts, and ate 
 strange dishes, while a maid in Indian costume 
 came and went continually. From some con 
 cealed balcony the soft music of stringed in 
 struments rose and fell. Rayne lost all count 
 of time. He strove to lash himself into some 
 comprehension of his dream, but it grew too 
 much for him. Had they been for a moment 
 alone, he would have demanded some explana 
 tion of this whim, but the maid was always 
 there. Through all his companion's talk and 
 jesting he had enough delicacy and perception
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 to perceive that she was not to be questioned, 
 and that she was to set the pace, not he ; and 
 he took his cue from her. 
 
 So the dinner went on from wonderful to 
 still more wonderful course, and his mystery 
 grew deeper. He was almost afraid of her 
 now; it was almost as if some princess had 
 captured him and was entertaining herself with 
 his bewilderment, only to turn him to ridi 
 cule at the end. Yet this girl was modern 
 to the finger-tips which caressed her cigarette. 
 Her talk was terse with Western idiom, her 
 smile was full-hearted, her eyes steady and 
 sincere. He gave it all up a hundred hundred 
 times. 
 
 The great clock in the dining-hall struck 
 eleven as his vis-a-vis sipped the last drop of 
 her Benedictine. She arose, and he followed 
 suit. She held her glass for scarcely more than 
 three drops, and extended it towards his. 
 
 " To the romance of the commonplace ! " she 
 said. They drank together. 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I have an appoint 
 ment in half an hour," she added ; and then, 
 looking at him frankly, " I will ask you to give 
 me your word to do exactly as I direct. When 
 
 [20]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 you leave this house, don't look back, for the 
 name is lettered on the transom, and don't look 
 at any other houses on the street so that you 
 can identify them. Keep your eyes shut till 
 your cab stops, and ask no questions. Is this 
 requiring too much of you ? " 
 
 Rayne bowed, and with less affectation than 
 before, he took her hand and touched it to his 
 lips. She smiled her last smile at him from the 
 door of the dining-hall, and then disappeared. 
 Rayne waited for a few minutes, and then went 
 out by the same way. 
 
 He was met in the Indian hall by a maid, 
 who handed him his hat and stick, saying, 
 " There 's a cab waiting below, sir." 
 
 He left, and according to his promise, with 
 no effort to betray her confidence, stepped into 
 his cab, closed his eyes, and was driven rapidly 
 home. 
 
 All next day Rayne nursed his dream. He 
 scarcely spoke to his fellows at the bank, con 
 juring their silence by complaints of a fictitious 
 headache. His mind was busy, going and 
 coming like an ant searching for its home. 
 But there was no clue to guide his action. With 
 just what was his honor intrusted ? Was it the 
 
 [21]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 better part to await some new invitation, or to 
 seek himself an answer to the riddle ? His reply 
 did not come till evening. 
 
 He walked up the avenue at four o'clock, as 
 before, but there was no gray angel to guide 
 him to Paradise. He went home, dressed, and 
 then, too unquiet to meet the talk of his friends 
 at his club, walked down to the Martin, and 
 took a seat alone. The place was full, and but 
 for a friendly waiter, Rayne could not have 
 secured a table. There he sat, more alone than 
 ever in the bustling crowd of strangers. 
 
 He was looking over the bill of fare when a 
 man of affable manner and easy comfort put his 
 hand to a chair opposite where Rayne sat. 
 
 "Do you mind if I sit down here?" he 
 asked. " There 's no other place, and it would 
 be a great favor to me." 
 
 Rayne nodded, not too pleased at the in 
 terruption of his reverie. The stranger grew 
 expansive. " Do you know," he said, " I am 
 about to commit an indiscretion ! I don't know 
 you, and I 'm pretty sure you don't know me. 
 I 'm from San Francisco, on my first trip to 
 New York. I Ve been here only three days, 
 and the Heavens have opened and angels de- 
 
 [22]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 scended already ! Want to hear a corruscating 
 tale ? I suppose I would n't tell it to my own 
 wife, if I had one, but you are a stranger, and 
 it 's just as if I was telling it to a Martian. I 've 
 seen a few fireworks put off on the Pacific slope, 
 but there are one or two things the effete East 
 can give us points on. Shall I tap my Arabian 
 Nights Entertainment ? " 
 
 Rayne had become interested in spite of him 
 self. " Go ahead," he replied. 
 
 " Not yet," remarked the Westerner. " Be 
 fore I lift the curtain, I 'd like to gamble." He 
 drew out a double eagle as he spoke. " I lay a 
 twenty on this table, and I will bet you even 
 money that you can't match my fairy tale of 
 real life with one of your own. I 'm prepared 
 to furnish names and dates." 
 
 The humor of the thing pleased Rayne. He 
 drew forth a twenty-dollar bill and placed it 
 beside the gold piece. 
 
 " Here it is, then," said the stranger. " I was 
 walking up Fifth Avenue two days ago, when 
 a girl came by in a red automobile. What 's 
 the matter ? " 
 
 " Go ahead," said Rayne. 
 
 " She stopped right abreast of me and called
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 me by name. Asked me if I wanted a ride. 
 She was a wizard and an archduchess for looks, 
 and her outfit had Redfern sewed into a sack. 
 Well, I went right up into the air. You can 
 figure pretty close to what I said ; it was what 
 an Indian famine victim would say if you asked 
 him if he wanted a chicken pie. What the 
 devil are you staring at ? Don't you believe it ? 
 You wait. I '11 give you the girl's name and 
 address, by jimminy ! " 
 
 Rayne bit his cigarette nearly in two, but 
 managed to say, " Never mind the names, go 
 on. I am a bit interested." 
 
 " Say, I did n't wake up for some few hours, 
 but this was my vision of delight. We rode out 
 the Avenue, stopping at the Garden of Eden, 
 Paradise, Arcady, and way-stations. I was 
 twenty-one again, and God was in his Heaven, 
 and all right with the world. We had some con 
 versation, but it was mostly me drinking down 
 smiles that did for me worse than Manhattan 
 cocktails, and watching two eyes twinkling like 
 electric light on a glass of champagne. I 'm no 
 poet, but I could bust a hole in all the blank 
 verse Shakespeare ever wrote if it would do 
 any good in describing my queen. But that 's 
 [24]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 only half. She took me home to dinner, into 
 a palace of gold and silver and precious stones 
 that made the St. Regis look like a dug-out. 
 And all this, mind you, not by the Empress of 
 the Bowery or a blonded Actorine out for press 
 stories, but a Venus de Milo, who 's too good 
 for any Four Hundred the Angel Gabriel could 
 round up. And then what d' you think ? 
 The bottom fell out of the clouds 1 was traveling 
 on, and I was hustled out into the night. And 
 that 's all. Stranger, I ask you, as one Christian 
 gentleman to another, does this sort of thing 
 happen often, or did I imbibe some new knock 
 out drop with my morning meal ? Can you 
 match this melodrama, my young friend? If 
 so, you can have the twenty ! " 
 
 " You say you know her name, and where 
 she lives ? " Rayne inquired eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, I 've got it here, somewhere," the 
 stranger said, fumbling with a huge wallet. 
 "Would n't you like to go up against that 
 pipe-dream ? " 
 
 " No, thanks," said Rayne wearily. " Take 
 your twenty ; I 'm afraid that 's too good a 
 story for me to beat. And you '11 pardon me 
 if I leave, won't you ? "
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 "Why, you have n't eaten dinner yet! " the 
 other exclaimed. 
 
 " I don't care for any dinner," Rayne re 
 plied, and taking his hat he walked miserably 
 home. 
 
 In the next Sunday's " Herald " the follow 
 ing " Personal " appeared : 
 
 AUTOMOBILE : Will my chauffeuse and hostess of 
 last Tuesday permit me to see her and ask an ex 
 planation of her fantastic kindness ? If so, address 
 BANK. 
 
 And two days afterwards, Rayne received this 
 note, written upon blue paper with a curious 
 incomprehensible engraved crest, or seal : 
 " / shall be glad to see you, if you can find me." 
 With this consent to his search, he began 
 his investigations. His impression had always 
 been that the unknown's apartment house was 
 one of the line of stone, Byzantine-fronted 
 buildings on 58th Street, east of Fifth Avenue, 
 but they were too much alike for him to iden 
 tify the particular one he had visited. He cast 
 aside at once the idea of putting a detective 
 upon the girl's track, and began to attempt to 
 trace her himself. 
 [26]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 He dined at the Martin every night, in 
 hopes of meeting the Californian again, but 
 sight of the stranger was not vouchsafed him. 
 He visited every large stationer in town, hoping 
 to identify the crest stamped upon his letter, 
 but it was unknown. He visited dealers in 
 curiosities, hoping to find the customer who had 
 bought Indian relics, but no news came from 
 this. 
 
 He was entering his cheques one day at the 
 bank, when he came across one which caught 
 his eye like the waving of a flag. At first he 
 scarcely knew why, and looked at the oblong 
 piece of paper as if hypnotized. It was drawn 
 for six hundred and sixty-six dollars and sixty- 
 six cents, that alone was enough to give him 
 pause, but it was not the amount, it was the 
 queer, fat little letters, with their painfully slow 
 and accurate downstrokes, their round " o's," 
 and heavily dotted " i's." In a flash he remem 
 bered it was the writing he had seen in the 
 letter from his unknown. He looked eagerly 
 at the name, "Margaret Million." 
 
 It was indorsed by a well-known customer 
 of the bank, a ladies' tailor, and that noon 
 Rayne paid her a visit. 
 
 [27]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " Miss Million ? " she said, smiling indul 
 gently. " Oh, yes, she 's at the Mendocino, on 
 Fifty-Seventh Street, Mr. Rayne. I 've just 
 sent up a love of a crepe de chine I " 
 
 At three o'clock Rayne was on his way, at 
 half past he found the place. He entered the 
 lower hall yes, the same walls of marbles of 
 variegated hues, which he had mentally com 
 pared to castile and colored toilet soaps, the 
 same negro boy in the elevator, the same 
 heavy, mahogany, nameless door to the flat. 
 He rang. The same Indian maid came to the 
 door. 
 
 She showed him in without surprise, and he 
 entered the Colonial drawing-room, wondering 
 now what he should say. The story of the 
 stranger from California had all but disillu 
 sioned him, and yet he could not forget the 
 entrancing impressions he had ' formed of the 
 gay and lovable girl who had intoxicated him 
 with romance. He had had time to think of 
 the incident of the old man's spectacles, too, 
 and had thought of it with a pang. Surely she 
 was a creature of inconsistencies. And then in 
 another moment she was there ! Every doubt 
 of her fell away, dispelled by the frankness of 
 [28]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 her smile and the steady glance of those hazel 
 eyes. He went to her and kissed her hand, 
 repledging his homage. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come," she said, 
 and seated herself by him. " I was afraid for 
 a while that I had made it too hard for you, 
 but you have won. I suppose you have come 
 to ask me questions, to get some explanation 
 of all that has happened ? But let me speak 
 first for I am ready to tell you everything." 
 
 He would have stopped her, for it seemed 
 so base to suspect her of anything common or 
 flippant that he was already ashamed ; but she 
 went on without waiting. 
 
 " I am a stranger in New York," she said, 
 " and I intend to remain so. I am hungry for 
 life, for romance of the better sort, for know 
 ledge of human nature, for a chance to help 
 out, sometimes, in ways that are not usually 
 taken. For all this it is necessary that I should 
 have assistance, and it is you that I have se 
 lected. You are not the first one that I have 
 tried, however. I have been terribly disap 
 pointed. One has violated my confidence, and 
 I am afraid to think what you will have thought 
 of me ; I mean the Californian who met you
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 at the Cafe Martin. How you treated him I 
 know also, and I give you my hand in thanks 
 for your consideration." 
 
 " You know that, too ? " he stammered. 
 
 " I know everything ! It was not exactly a 
 trap I laid for you, for chance came to my as 
 sistance ; but I found out much that I wanted 
 to know about you. To resume : I need a pri 
 vate secretary. I need a man, moreover, who 
 has manners, honor, kindness, and cleverness. 
 When I reached New York, I went to my law 
 yer to find such a man, and of the five recom 
 mended to me, you alone have possessed these 
 four requirements. It took but a few minutes 
 to make sure that your manners were above 
 reproach. Your kindness I proved to my sat 
 isfaction, although at the temporary loss of my 
 own self-respect, by that deliberate trick on the 
 old man in the Park. Your honor was proved 
 by the fact that you did not attempt to find 
 out by unfair means where I lived, and your 
 shrewdness was shown by your instant recog 
 nition of the writing on the cheque that I made 
 sure would pass through your hands. Mr. 
 Rayne, for all these tests I beg your pardon. 
 When you know me better, I am sure that you 
 [30]
 
 The Story of the Private Secretary 
 
 will understand my nature, and forgive the way 
 I made myself certain." 
 
 "And now," she said, raising her eyes for 
 the first time to his, "will you act as my pri 
 vate secretary and confidential agent, at any 
 salary you care to name ? " 
 
 No one ever refused a request accompanied 
 by such a glance as that. At least, Mr. Rayne 
 did not.
 
 II 
 
 Sally, The Scroyle 
 
 I HAD not long been in Miss Million's em 
 ploy when the following adventure took place. 
 In sorting her newspaper clippings (she had 
 hundreds, which it was my business to classify 
 and index) , / came upon many relating to the stage, 
 and in especial to the lives and habits of the 
 lesser known actors and actresses. Amongst her 
 notes, too, were many comments, speculations, and 
 queries as to the life behind the scenes. 
 
 I was not surprised, therefore, when one day 
 she asked me for information about New Tork 
 theatres, and set me to find out systematically (as 
 a detective bureau might do it) all that I could 
 concerning the several Stage Managers in town. 
 
 After I had prepared this information, she told 
 me that she was to be away from her apartments 
 for an indefinite period, leaving her half-caste 
 maid, Hachewa, in charge. 'The address she gave 
 me was that of a lodging-house on West Forty- 
 Third Street, where, however, I was forbidden 
 
 [33]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 to communicate with her, except upon important, 
 urgent business, or when I was sent for. 
 
 Meanwhile, I was to have an eye on her apart 
 ments, see that all meals were served as usual, 
 whether she appeared or not, and to attend to the 
 regular routine of my work as confidential agent 
 for her ranch in California. I was also in abso 
 lute charge of her bank account, which at this 
 time amounted, in New Tork, to seven millions. 
 
 During the two months which Miss Million 
 was away, I was called upon to assist her several 
 times, and my fart in the following story will be 
 sufficiently evident from the narrative.
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 THE stage director of the McCabe 
 Theatre had come downtown early, 
 and was in a mood for hard work. 
 He was alert and observing, wherefore the two 
 young women waiting in the hallway caught his 
 eye, and he estimated their professional use to 
 him in a glance. 
 
 " Who are those two girls out there ? " he 
 asked of his secretary, as soon as he was seated 
 at his desk. 
 
 "Looking for a job," said the secretary. 
 " One has a letter from Hastings ; the other 's 
 traveling on her face, I think." 
 
 " Bring in the one with the letter," said Mr. 
 Toland. 
 
 She came in a moment a slight, wiry, blonde 
 girl with a deal of character in her face, but 
 scant of obvious beauty. Her violet eyes were 
 steady and full of will, without being at all hard. 
 Her hair was Romanesque, full of virility. She 
 handed Mr. Toland a note, which he looked 
 
 [35]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 over carelessly. Then he gave her a deliberate 
 stare that was not wholly impolite. 
 
 " I think I can give you a small part, if you 
 care to take it," he said. "It is n't much, but 
 it 's a chance. I Ve been looking for some one 
 of your style. What have you done ? " 
 
 She narrated her experience in a few business 
 like words. 
 
 " We begin to rehearse on Monday," said 
 Mr. Toland. " Come round at nine sharp. 
 Show in the other one ! " he added to his sec 
 retary. 
 
 The other one was a type better suited to 
 Mr. Toland's personal preference, and, without 
 betraying any of the mannerisms of the profes 
 sional, had a "presence" that caught the Stage 
 Director's fancy. She showed inexperience but 
 not shyness in her manner, and was clad in 
 a gown of gray and red that, as an expert in 
 costume, Mr. Toland thoroughly approved. 
 There was a merry light in the girl's eyes, and 
 a dimple in her cheek that came and went, 
 calling attention to a rare complexion. Her fig 
 ure was gracile enough to prevent its seeming 
 voluptuous, and her hands were remarkably 
 fine, showing caste and cleverness. 
 [36]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 " I came to see if you could give me a place 
 in your company, Mr. Toland," she began. 
 " But I have no experience and no introduc 
 tion. I 'd be willing to do anything almost 
 except wear tights." 
 
 " We 're not putting on a spectacle," he said, 
 laughing. " What makes you want to go on 
 the stage ? It 's a hard life, and it 's discour 
 aging. There are plenty of better things to do. 
 Why do you think you can act ? " 
 
 "Only because I want to," she replied. 
 
 " Well," he said good-naturedly, " I '11 spare 
 you the customary advice, for as a matter of 
 fact I can use you. I have been wanting two 
 women of certain types very much, and have 
 been wondering where I 'd find them. Miss 
 Hepburn and you happen to just fill the bill, 
 so you may consider yourself engaged. What 
 name shall I put down ? " 
 
 " Sally Hope, please," answered the new ac 
 tress. 
 
 She left him and passed down the hall. 
 Miss Hepburn was standing by the outer 
 door. 
 
 " I got a position ! " Sally exclaimed frankly. 
 
 Miss Hepburn turned to her, smiling with 
 
 [37]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 a friendly look. I 'm so glad you did ! I was 
 hoping you 'd get in the company when I first 
 saw you, for I knew I 'd like you." 
 
 " My name is Sally Hope ; yours, Miss 
 Hepburn, I know already. It 's nice of you 
 to like me, for I feel the same way about 
 you. But I 'm afraid of you, for you 've acted 
 before, and I Ve never even gone on, except in 
 amateur theatricals." 
 
 " Oh, it 's easy enough, the beginning," said 
 Miss Hepburn. "It's the getting your head 
 above water, getting out of the crowd, that's 
 hard. I 'm always hoping I 'm going to do it, 
 but it never comes. You see, I take my art 
 pretty seriously." 
 
 " I don't," said Sally, " but I think it 's great 
 fun." 
 
 " You won't get anywhere if you 're not in 
 earnest," said Miss Hepburn. 
 
 " I 'm in earnest about wanting to get a good 
 place to board and room, at any rate. It 's hor 
 ribly expensive at my hotel. Do you know of 
 any place to live ? " 
 
 " Why don't you come up to my boarding- 
 house ? It 's on West Forty-Third Street, and 
 it 's very convenient and very cheap. There 's 
 [38]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 a room side of mine, and we might share the 
 big one together. Do ! " 
 
 " I believe I will ! " said Sally. " You give 
 me the address, and I '11 move in this after 
 noon." 
 
 " Oh, you 'd better see it first," was Miss 
 Hepburn's cautious advice. 
 
 " Nonsense, I 've confidence in you ! " was 
 the answer, and after a few moments of talk 
 she left the theatre. 
 
 At five she appeared with her trunk, in a 
 cab, at which extravagance Miss Hepburn 
 gravely reproved her. " Why, I did n't know 
 any other way of getting my box up ! " said 
 Sally. 
 
 She noticed that Miss Hepburn was differ 
 ently dressed. At the manager's office she had 
 flowered out in a brave attempt at style, though 
 Sally had observed several inconsistencies in 
 the effect. There was no such pretense now. 
 The girl had on a faded French flannel shirt 
 waist and short skirt, both in a rather pitiful 
 condition of wear. The lines showed a little 
 plainer in her face, too, and she looked worn 
 and tired. 
 
 " Let 's come out and have dinner, before I 
 
 [39]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 unpack," Sally suggested. " I saw a restaurant 
 near here, on the avenue. Have you tried it ? " 
 
 " You must have money in the bank ! " said 
 Miss Hepburn. "I have n't eaten in a restau 
 rant for two months ! " 
 
 " Why, where in the world do you eat ? " 
 
 " Here in the room, of course. I '11 show 
 you. I can make tea over the gas, and we '11 
 have some crackers and sardines." 
 
 "Oh, I say ! let 's really eat to-night. I Ve 
 got fifty dollars ! " said Sally. 
 
 " * Powdered pigs' bones and rhubarb glis 
 ters!'" cried Miss Hepburn. "Why, you're 
 a millionaire ! Wherever did you get that 
 much money ? And to think of your getting 
 a position the first time you tried ! " 
 
 " Did n't you ? " 
 
 Miss Hepburn smiled. " I '11 accept one 
 dinner, just for to-night, to celebrate, and then 
 I '11 tell you all about it. I see you 're an inno 
 cent. Fifty dollars ! c O, thou shalt lie in a bed 
 stuffed with turtle's feathers and swoon in per 
 fumed linen, like the fellow was smothered in 
 roses ! ' " 
 
 " What in the world do you mean ? " Sally 
 asked in wonder. 
 [40]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 " Oh, you must n't mind me, dear," was the 
 reply. " I 'm simply daft about the Elizabethan 
 dramatists. I Ve managed to save my c Mer 
 maid ' edition, and I Ve read them so much I 
 have them all on the tip of my tongue. If you 
 hear me say anything particularly crazy, like 
 f nng-galliard,' it 's only Beaumont and Fletcher 
 or John Webster." 
 
 " I guess I am innocent," Sally remarked. 
 " I Ve never even heard of them." 
 
 " They invented the English language 
 almost," said Miss Hepburn succinctly. "It 's 
 my mania. My highest ideal is to revive ' The 
 Duchess of Malfi.' Wait till you read it ! " 
 She struck a noble attitude and declaimed, 
 
 "'Shoot me to death with pearls cut my throat 
 with diamonds ! ' ' and then with a histrionic 
 scorn, 
 
 " * Pshaw ! Tour pistols hold nothing but per 
 fumes and kissing comfits ! ' But are n't you 
 going to change your clothes, first, though ? " 
 
 " Why, no," Sally said ; " I think this suit 
 will do, won't it ? " 
 
 " Is it really yours ? " Miss Hepburn whis 
 pered, and then blushed furiously. " Oh, I for 
 got you had money," she added. " You see, I
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 borrowed all the clothes I could get, so I could 
 present a good appearance to Mr. Toland. 
 He thinks a lot of dress. I have n't a thing 
 of my own I dared to wear ! " 
 
 " You poor dear ! But I don't think you '11 
 need rubbers," said Sally, seeing Miss Hep 
 burn struggle with them. 
 
 Miss Hepburn turned pink again. "It looks 
 like rain," she suggested. Then she turned an 
 embarrassed face to Sally. " I have n't been 
 able to afford new shoes, Sally, and these are 
 worn right through the soles. I Ve had to wear 
 rubbers for three weeks ! Oh, you don't know ! 
 I hope you '11 never know, dear, what it is to 
 be up against it in little old New York. Never 
 mind, we 've got an engagement at last ! Fif 
 teen a week, Sally, think of that! It's opu 
 lence ! * I feel a stark, affrighted motion in 
 my blood ' just to think of it. That 's from 
 ' The Maid's Tragedy ' I came pretty near 
 to having one myself! f A kind of healthful 
 joy wanders in me ! ' Same play. Come on, 
 let 's eat ! Then we '11 talk and talk and talk, 
 Sally ; you '11 talk, too < I '11 ne'er believe 
 a silent woman ; when they break out they 
 are bonfires ! ' - Beaumont and Fletcher, my 
 [42]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 dear ; you '11 get used to my rigmarole, after a 
 while." 
 
 Emily Hepburn had an intense, determined 
 way of talking that compelled attention. At 
 dinner she kept Sally amused at her advice, for 
 she had had sufficient experience on the stage 
 to know what to expect. 
 
 " You must n't mind what actresses say, for 
 they 're mostly all cats," said Emily. " Cats 
 is n't exactly the word, either I call them 
 f scroyles.' Scroyle is Elizabethan, of course, 
 f rare old Ben Jonson's ' pet word, I think 
 oh, he was the boy for invective ! and it 
 can't be translated. I do hope you won't be a 
 scroyle, Sally. They laugh at you if you scat 
 ter your powder, and they guy your make-up, 
 and they lie about when rehearsals are called, 
 so you '11 be late, and they wheedle the stage 
 manager, or try to. I try not to be a scroyle, 
 but it 's awfully hard, when all the others are." 
 
 " What are you, then ? " Sally asked. 
 
 " ' She 's a delicate dab-chick, I must have 
 her ! ' that's what I try to be. You '11 find 
 it in c The Alchemist,' if you look." 
 
 " I 'm sure you 're a dab-chick, Emily," said 
 Sally. 
 
 [43]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " And now," Emily began, after dinner was 
 done, "if you want to hear it, I '11 tell you what 
 you escaped. I came to New York two years 
 ago with a letter to a star, and got a place right 
 away. But she fell ill in two months, the piece 
 closed, and from that day to this I have n't had 
 a position for more than two weeks at a time. 
 I 've tried everything, vaudeville even, and gone 
 to manager after manager, and been thrown down 
 everywhere. My money gave out early in the 
 game, and then I really don't know what I 
 didn't try. I studied shorthand and typewrit 
 ing, and got a place, but I simply couldn't give 
 up acting. I 'd rather fail on the stage than 
 succeed anywhere else. I Ve worked in a res 
 taurant (the only time I ever have had really 
 enough food in two years), but I left that to try 
 for a place in Boston. I Ve been a telephone 
 girl and a parlor maid, and tried reporting, and 
 worked in a dentist's office. In between, I Ve 
 tried and tried and tried, sometimes succeeding 
 in getting on for a week or so, and then some 
 thing would always happen. The last two 
 months have been the worst, though. I could n't 
 get anything to do, and I Ve read in the library 
 till my eyes ached, and then, just to keep my- 
 [44]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 self from going crazy, I used to go into depart 
 ment stores and try on cloaks and wraps and 
 things, and pretend I could n't be suited. But 
 I never once admitted the possibility of giving 
 it all up. Meanwhile, I've read every play 1 
 could get hold of, and I could go on in any 
 Shakespearian production at a day's notice, I 
 think. I 've read up costume and history be 
 sides, so as to be sure of myself when I did 
 get a chance. And now I 'm going on at the 
 McCabe as * extra woman ' ! Is n't it ridiculous ? 
 But I don't care, if I 've got it in me, it'll come 
 out, sooner or later. Look at the way Duse 
 suffered ! I have n't gone through half what 
 she did. f Hell, to her affliction was mere snow 
 water,' if you '11 allow me to misquote ' The 
 White Devil.' There 's only one thing I need, 
 and that 's fencing. I don't know how to fence, 
 and it might be necessary. I can dance a little 
 already, and sing fairly well." 
 
 Emily Hepburn's lessons in economy were 
 received with interest by her prot'eg'ee, for Sally 
 was consistently extravagant in everything. As 
 she was well equipped with clothes, and the two 
 girls were of about the same size, she insisted 
 upon sharing her wardrobe with Emily, at least 
 
 [45]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 until their salaries should commence. In return 
 Emily coached her in season and out of season 
 for her first appearance. 
 
 The first " reading through " of the play and 
 assignment of parts was exciting for a novice, 
 though the girls had scarcely more than a line 
 or two apiece. Emily, after the rehearsal, in 
 sisted upon reading her lines over and over to 
 Sally, with an earnestness that amused the 
 beginner. 
 
 The rehearsals progressed, and Sally soon 
 lost her timidity in her study of stage-land and 
 the stage-folk. Easily first in her notice was 
 Mr. Walter Blackfield, the "juvenile lead." 
 
 He was young, and in his way as enthusias 
 tic as Emily Hepburn. He had a bright, boy 
 ish face, with a square, nicked chin, and curly 
 black hair. His habitual expression was a frown, 
 almost threatening, but of a sudden, after a 
 direct stare, his face would crinkle into a smile 
 so abandoned and hearty, that it was almost a 
 match for Sally's, when she half closed her eyes 
 and dimpled into gleefulness. 
 
 Chance threw the two together in the wings, 
 one day, after a long, tedious siege of rehearsal, 
 decidedly trying to Mr. Toland. The stage 
 [46]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 director had just vented his temper on the 
 juvenile lead. 
 
 " Bah ! " said Walter Blackfield to Sally, 
 " he 's a rogue, a foist, a hodmontod, an iper, a 
 trindle-tale, a dogfish, leech, caterpillar, a pum- 
 pion, and a pernicious, petticoat prince ! " 
 
 Sally smiled up at him and remarked, " He 's 
 a scroyle, too, is n't he ? " 
 
 He gave her a frowning glance, then his face 
 exploded in a smile. " What do you know about 
 scroyles, Miss Hope? " he demanded in sur 
 prise. 
 
 " I think I am one," she replied. 
 
 At this moment he was called on the stage, 
 and Sally saw no more of him that day. But 
 after the girls got home, Emily said, 
 
 " D' you know, I rather like Mr. Blackfield ; 
 I think he can act. I 'd like to play opposite 
 him. He would n't do tricks, I 'm sure. Did 
 you see how Mr. Dowey has been acting ? You 
 watch him on the first night, and see if in that 
 scene with Miss Max in the second act he 
 does n't get up stage and force her to turn her 
 back on the audience, so he '11 get the benefit 
 of all his lines while she 's eclipsed. He 's a 
 scroyle, all right ! But Blackfield is a gentle- 
 
 [47]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 man. I 'm sure he has talent, and he '11 go far. 
 Oh, dear ! < He has a tongue will tame tempests 
 and make the wild rocks wanton ! ' f Two 
 Noble Kinsmen,' Sally; you certainly ought 
 to read it ! " 
 
 * 
 
 The opening night had passed successfully 
 enough with its suspense, its hysteria, its ner 
 vous strain, and the piece was fairly launched, 
 when Mr. Toland, breathing freer, called for 
 an " understudy rehearsal " to assign the parts. 
 Emily Hepburn was anxious. While Sally had 
 been enjoying herself behind the scenes, talk 
 ing with every one, from the scene-shifters and 
 firemen to the star (for few could resist her, 
 and rules were lax at the McCabe), Emily had 
 used her ears and her eyes well, watching every 
 piece of business and the reading of every line, 
 critical of everything. With Sally's help she 
 had made out a fair costume from odds and 
 ends of her room-mate's wardrobe ; but Sally 
 herself, trim and elegant, had made a much 
 better impression. It was a wonder to Emily 
 how Sally, willing to take such a poor position, 
 could afford such gowns, but Sally had not 
 thought it necessary to explain her circum- 
 [48]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 stances. Many things about Sally worried her 
 friend her frivolity, her apparent selfishness, 
 her constant refusal to take her art seriously, 
 and the hopelessness of her capacity. Yet 
 every one seemed to like the girl, and Emily 
 herself liked her more and more, despite her 
 faults. This affection, however, was in great 
 danger when the understudy parts were given 
 out. 
 
 Mr. Toland was no exception to the rest in 
 his liking for Sally Hope, and Sally was quick 
 to take advantage of it. In the understudy 
 cast, both Emily Hepburn and Sally Hope 
 were given the ingenue's part. He looked up, 
 as he read the list, and Sally said calmly, 
 
 " Of course I 'm to be first understudy, Mr. 
 Toland ? You know I can dress the part and 
 wear my clothes, though I have n't so much 
 experience as Miss Hepburn." 
 
 Mr. Toland nodded. 
 
 Emily took this calmly enough, though the 
 blow hurt her. 
 
 After the rehearsals began, she said, " Sally, 
 I Ve been watching Miss Max pretty sharply, 
 and I can see a good many places where it could 
 be improved. She could make a lot more of 
 
 [49]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 that business with the handkerchief, and several 
 times she turns her head at the wrong time, so 
 as to spoil the laugh she ought to get. When 
 we get home, I '11 show you." 
 
 She went over the part, which they both 
 knew well, and explained her improvements. 
 The next morning, at the rehearsal of the un 
 derstudies, when her time came, Sally boldly 
 adopted these changes. 
 
 "Why, that's bully, Miss Hope!" Mr. 
 Toland exclaimed; "where did you get that 
 idea ? " 
 
 " Oh, it just came to me, in thinking it over," 
 said Sally. 
 
 " It 's all right; I '11 suggest it to Miss Max," 
 said the stage director. 
 
 " Sally, you 're a scroyle, I 'm afraid," said 
 Emily, as they went home. 
 
 Sally smiled and made no reply. 
 
 This was as far as Emily went, no matter 
 what temptation she had to protest. She per 
 mitted Sally to use more than her share of the 
 dressing-room they occupied together, lent her 
 make-up, and cleared her litter away, indul 
 gently accepting all Sally's impositions as a 
 matter of course. Harder to forgive was Sally's 
 [50]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 overt flirtation with Mr. Blackfield, who by this 
 time had progressed considerably in familiarity. 
 Emily felt a sense of responsibility in regard to 
 her friend, and feared many things she dared 
 not suggest. 
 
 One afternoon Mr. Blackfield's card was 
 brought up to her room in the boarding-house. 
 As the girls used the larger room for a sitting- 
 room, she sent for the gentleman to come up. 
 
 " I 'm sorry Miss Hope is n't in, this after 
 noon, Mr. Blackfield," she said, " but she said 
 she had to go over to Brooklyn." 
 
 " That 's funny," he answered ; " she said 
 particularly that she 'd be at home, and asked 
 me to call." 
 
 " Oh, well, then, perhaps she '11 come in. 
 Won't you wait awhile ? " 
 
 " Thanks, I will. But I 'm afraid she is a 
 scroyle ! " 
 
 Miss Hepburn sat up, suddenly attentive. 
 " I beg your pardon ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, that 's only one of her words, Miss 
 Hepburn; no insult intended. For my part, I 
 consider her a { delicate dab-chick.' ' 
 
 Emily Hepburn became intense, and when 
 she was intense, she was quite another person. 
 
 [5']
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Mr. Blackfield took his turn at being surprised 
 at her manner now, when she said, " Tou know 
 The Alchemist ' ? " 
 
 " Well, rather I " was the hearty response, 
 and his frown of bewilderment changed to his 
 compelling smile. " Shall I { spit out secrets 
 like hot custard,' my * smock rampant' ?" 
 
 " You ! Tou ! " was all she could say. " And 
 poor Sally ! Has she been trying Elizabethan 
 quotations on you? f Though she had practiced 
 seven years in the pest-house, she could not 
 have done quaintlier ' ! " 
 
 " * I feel a stark affrighted motion in my 
 blood,' " he went on, taking up her quotation. 
 " I knew she had them all second-hand, you 
 may be sure. So you 're the real, original Eliz 
 abethan enthusiast, are you ? ' You, my most 
 neat and cunning orator, whose tongue is quick 
 silver ? ' Ah, 'green goose, you 're now in sip 
 pets ' ! " 
 
 "Mr. Blackfield," said Emily, in a mock 
 tragic humor, c were all the gods in parliament, 
 I 'd burst their silence with my importunity ! ' 
 I did n't know any one but professors and stu 
 dents ever read Webster nowadays ! Will you 
 play Ferdinand to my Duchess of Malfi ? " 
 [52]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 " ' O excellent hyena/ I will ! " was his en 
 thusiastic reply. 
 
 And at that rate the conversation was main 
 tained with Elizabethan enthusiasm for a couple 
 of hours, till Sally appeared with pink cheeks 
 and a smile. 
 
 " Well, I thought you two would get on all 
 right alone," was all the explanation she con 
 descended to offer. Emily's reproaches, how 
 ever, were mild, and even Mr. Blackfield did 
 not seem unforgivably disappointed. 
 
 He called often after that, and usually Sally 
 was away. 
 
 One day Emily came to her radiant. " What 
 d' you think?" she exclaimed. "To-day I had 
 a call from a professor of fencing, who offered 
 to give me a course of lessons free ! He said 
 he 's a stranger in the city, and wants to intro 
 duce himself that way. But I find he 's very 
 well known indeed ; in fact, he 's the best in 
 New York. What d' you suppose it means, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 " I should n't worry about that. If he wants 
 you so much, I 'd let him teach me. You 
 said you wanted to learn, did n't you ? " said 
 Sally. 
 
 [53]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " I wish he would take you! " said Emily. 
 
 " Oh, I don't want to fence ! It 's as stupid 
 as Ben Jonson to me ! " 
 
 " Sally ! How can you ! Why, Mr. Black- 
 field and I read the whole of ' Volpone ' yester 
 day. It 's lovely ! How any one can bear those 
 stupid mechanical obvious old comedies like 
 f She Stoops to Conquer,' I don't see." 
 
 " I suppose if I were in love, I would en 
 joy reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica," said 
 Sally, and Emily blushed fiercely. 
 
 " By the way," she added carelessly, " how 
 would you dress Dulcie's part, if you were 
 going to costume it? I don't like Miss Max's 
 gown, do you ? " 
 
 " No it 's something fearful ! " said Emily. 
 " What I 'd like, in the ball scene, would be an 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur costume, of silver cloth 
 studded with turquoises, with a tunic of the same 
 material and a long train of silver lace embroid 
 ered with turquoise and lined with silver. Then 
 I 'd have a crown of turquoises and pearls and 
 a necklace, and wear my hair in two braids fall 
 ing in front, entwined with turquoises. But I 
 suppose Mr. Toland would have something 
 to say about that ! f She came in like starlight, 
 [54]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 hid in jewels ! ' That 's a good description of 
 my idea of a costume by the Ben Jonson 
 whom you think is so stupid." She went off 
 into a reverie at the fancy. 
 
 It happened that not long after, Mr. Black- 
 field called, and finding Emily away, came up 
 to have a little talk with Sally. He too was 
 full of enthusiasm for his profession, as earnest 
 as Emily herself, and his boyish ardor was quite 
 delightful to Sally. This time he was all serious 
 ness, and his frown did not for a time disap 
 pear. Finally, after some innocuous talk, he 
 ventured : 
 
 " I say, Miss Hope, don't you think you 
 could improve your part a little if you should 
 play up a bit more ? You know, in that charac 
 ter you 're supposed to have no end of money. 
 Now you act only just your natural self, and 
 no one would ever suppose you had a cent to 
 your name. You ought to show it more. Of 
 course your natural self is charming, but life 
 is n't art. You ought to think of it." 
 
 " I never thought of that," Sally admitted. 
 " How do rich people behave, anyway ? Of 
 course, on a salary of fifteen dollars a week, I 
 can't very well know, you know." 
 
 [55]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " I can't describe it exactly, but if you should 
 watch the people on Fifth Avenue, and driv 
 ing in the Park, you 'd see what I mean. I saw 
 a girl in a red automobile the other day who 
 reminded me of you a good deal if you could 
 only get her manner ! " 
 
 " But there 's one other thing I wanted to 
 speak to you about," he added. "You won't 
 mind, will you ? " 
 
 " Of course not, silly ! " said Sally. " What 
 is it ? " 
 
 " Well, are n't you a little bit unkind and 
 inconsiderate with Emily ? " he asked fearfully. 
 " She has never said a word to me, but it does 
 seem as if you were a little selfish sometimes. 
 What d' you think about it yourself? " 
 
 " I suppose I am," Sally admitted. " But 
 how can you tell whether people are really worth 
 while or not until you Ve tried them ? Now I 
 happen to know, by this time, that Emily 's 
 solid gold, but if I had n't sometimes been 
 mean and horrid, I 'd never be sure. Emily 's 
 a gentleman, that 's what she is." 
 
 " And what are you, then ? " he said. " Sup 
 pose she should try you ! " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm a scroyle ! I 'm selfish, I know, 
 [56]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 but I Ve learned a lot by it. Do you think 
 Emily will ever make an actress ? " 
 
 " An actress ! Why, she '11 go clear to the top, 
 don't you feel certain of that ? What a great 
 actress needs is simply intelligence. It 's the 
 hardest thing to find there is. Emily has got 
 that, and she is capable of hard work, too. I 
 never saw any one so in earnest. If you 'd only 
 take a lesson from her and not fritter away your 
 time having fun and foolishness, and observe 
 things a little closer, you 'd be an actress your 
 self. But you 're a scatter-brain, I 'm afraid." 
 
 " I 'm afraid I am, Mr. Blackfield ; I can't 
 take it a bit seriously. Everything and every 
 body amuses me too much." 
 
 "That's just it! You're too amused. If 
 you 'd only use your brains more you surely 
 have brains. Why, only the other day I heard 
 you laughing at Papa Holden's clothes he 
 was terribly hurt. But what d' you think ? He 
 told me last night that he had had sent him three 
 whole new suits of clothes besides a dress suit ! 
 He has n't the least idea where they all came 
 from, but he 's kept the stage door for so long 
 that no doubt some actor that 's made good has 
 remembered him. He 's as pleased as Punch ! 
 
 [57]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 You won't have a chance to laugh at him any 
 more, at any rate ! " 
 
 " Poor old Papa ! I 'm glad for him," said 
 Sally, " but I 'm always sorry to lose a laugh. 
 I '11 be sorry when I have to stop laughing at 
 you, Mr. Blackfield." 
 
 " Why should you laugh at me, please ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 " Why not ? Are n't you in love with 
 Emily ? " 
 
 " ' I do love that witch very constrainedly/ ' 
 he quoted. 
 
 " And you don't know that your photograph 
 is in her mirror the only one there ? " 
 
 " By Jove ! " he exclaimed ; " is it, now ? " 
 
 " Go in and see ! " said Sally. " Being a 
 scroyle, I don't at all mind giving her away." 
 
 He ventured in, and came back with his frown 
 deepened. " * O, thou abominable, loathsome 
 gargarism ' ! " he exclaimed. " It was n't mine 
 at all ! It was another man's ! " 
 
 Sally laughed. " That will pay you for your 
 vanity, sir ! " she said, " and if you 're wise, it 
 will give you a valuable tip. I advise you to 
 hurry up ! " 
 
 
 
 [58]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 The play had run only three weeks, when, 
 one afternoon about two o'clock, a messenger 
 appeared at the boarding-house with a note 
 from Mr. Toland to Miss Sally Hope, inform 
 ing her that Miss Max had met with a severe 
 accident, which would prevent her playing her 
 part for some days. Miss Hope was to come 
 downtown at four and go over the part with 
 the Stage Director before dinner, so that he 
 could see that she was able to play it that 
 night. 
 
 Sally sat down and wrote two letters, sent 
 them off by the boy, and then showed Mr. 
 Toland's message to Emily. Both girls had, of 
 course, understudied the part and were com 
 petent to take it, but though Miss Hepburn's 
 talent was indubitably greater, Sally's air and 
 popularity had won. Emily was as interested, 
 however, as if the summons had come for her. 
 She congratulated Sally warmly, and there was 
 no hypocrisy evident in her tone. 
 
 " Now, Sally," she went on, " you must 
 make a hit to-night, and I 'm going to show 
 you how. I 've studied that part till I know 
 every possibility in it, and there are loads of 
 ways you can improve on it. It's the chance 
 
 [59]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 of a lifetime; and think of it, you 're really only 
 an amateur ! Oh, I do hope you '11 make good 
 of course you will, for every one loves to 
 watch you, whatever you do ! Now sit down, 
 and I '11 go over the whole thing with you, and 
 show you just what can be done." 
 
 For two hours the two girls studied together, 
 and all Emily's hints were illuminating. She 
 grew excited, far more than did Sally, at the 
 prospect of the evening's success. The enthu 
 siasm of it sent the color to her cheeks, and 
 when she stood up and explained the fine points 
 of the ingenue's business, she threw her whole 
 heart into the endeavor. Sally attempted again 
 and again to stop her, and showed a lack of 
 interest that shocked her room-mate. Finally, 
 when Sally gave up the study rather languidly, 
 making slight pretense of her boredom, Emily 
 broke down and burst into tears. Sally turned 
 then, with her brows uplifted. 
 
 " Why, what 's the matter, Emily ? " she 
 said. 
 
 "You have such a chance!" the girl wept, 
 
 " a chance that any girl would give a year's 
 
 salary to have ! You can get your head above 
 
 water to-night, perhaps become famous ! Many 
 
 [60]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 a woman has been, from just such a fortunate 
 accident as this ! There may be managers there 
 to-night who '11 see you. You may be given a 
 better part in the next play, at least ! Oh, and 
 you don't half appreciate it. You don't care 
 for your art enough even to make an effort to 
 try! You might go on and carry the whole 
 thing with you ! If you only cared ! If you 
 only had enthusiasm! " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw, Emily, you take things too 
 seriously," Sally replied. " I '11 do my best 
 to-night, don't you worry about it. You '11 see ! 
 I '11 play up ! I have some ideas of my own 
 I 've had up my sleeve, and they '11 make a hit, 
 even with you ; you see if they don't! " 
 
 And she went off downtown to see Mr. 
 Toland. 
 
 She came back in high spirits, full of a sup 
 pressed excitement. But she would not talk, 
 her one expostulatory remark being a quotation 
 from " The Maid's Tragedy," which she had 
 caught from Emily. 
 
 " * This is no place to brabble in,' Emily. 
 Please don't make me brabble, for I don't feel 
 like it ! You '11 be satisfied when the time 
 comes, dear! " 
 
 [61]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 At half past six the two started out together 
 for the theatre, but before they had walked a 
 block Sally stopped and said : 
 
 " Oh, Emily, I forgot to take my watch ! 
 I 'm going to run back and get it. You need n't 
 wait for me." 
 
 " But the idea, Sally!" Emily pro tested; "you 
 must n't run any risk of being late to-night. 
 Let me go, won't you, if you must have it ? " 
 
 " No, you run along. I '11 take a cab if neces 
 sary," Sally said decidedly, and turned back 
 without waiting to discuss the matter further. 
 
 Emily walked on. She paused to bid Papa 
 Holden a good-evening, and he asked her, 
 
 "Where's Miss Hope? Mr. Toland has 
 been howling for her ! " 
 
 "Oh, she'll be right along," said Emily. 
 " She just went back for a moment." 
 
 The doorkeeper shook his head mournfully. 
 " You ought to have that part, Miss Hepburn. 
 You could make a big thing out of it ! " 
 
 " I hope Sally will," was her reply. 
 
 She passed up to the little dressing-room and 
 began to take off her things. Fifteen minutes 
 went by twenty. Then came a peremptory 
 knock at the door. Mr. Toland appeared. 
 [62]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 " Has n't Miss Hope turned up yet ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 Emily, anxious herself by this time, explained 
 all she knew. 
 
 " Well, I '11 give her ten minutes more ! " 
 he said. 
 
 It was already half past seven. For the first 
 time the thought came to Emily what Sally's 
 absence might mean to herself. She stifled the 
 hope it brought, hated herself for the envy of 
 it, and waited. 
 
 Mr. Toland appeared again, a messenger with 
 a huge box behind him. 
 
 " You '11 go on and take the part, Miss Hep 
 burn ! I 've waited as long as I can. Hurry 
 up, and I '11 have Miss Max's costume sent in 
 here, and the wardrobe woman will do what she 
 can for you. Hello, what 's this ? " He turned 
 angrily to the boy. 
 
 " A package for Miss Hepburn," said the 
 boy. 
 
 In an instant, Miss Hepburn understood. 
 How or why, she did not know, nor did she 
 attempt any explanation to herself, but as she 
 tore open the package, she was sure what it 
 would contain, Beneath the tissue paper lay
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 the costume she had described, all silver and 
 turquoise, sparkling in the light. Under this, 
 in a leather case, shimmering on a velvet bed, 
 were the crown and necklace, the latter a river 
 of pearls breaking into pools of dull blue gems. 
 There was no card, no note, no explanation of 
 any kind. But Miss Hepburn had scant time 
 for wonder. All this splendor was for the end 
 of the play. She put down the dress as one 
 might lay a baby to rest, and dressed in a fever 
 for the first act. 
 
 She went down to the stage with her head 
 swimming, and attempted to listen to Mr. 
 Toland's final instructions, though her mind 
 was dizzy with the surprise of her fortune. She 
 rallied, however, to meet Mr. Blackfield. 
 
 " Oh, is n't it bully ! " he cried wildly. " By 
 Jove, you look like the ' White Devil ' to-night, 
 Emily ! I 'm so glad you 're going on instead 
 of that little scroyle of a Sally ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't say that, Walter ! " she pleaded. 
 "She's not! I'm sure she's not! There's 
 something so mysterious about all this that I 
 can't think straight but I have a sort of a 
 glimmering of an idea and it's going to be a 
 big surprise, somehow. I can't explain, I 'm too 
 
 [64]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 confused." She turned to him as if in a daze, 
 and added, << Is not this a fantastic house we 
 are in, and all we do a dream ' ? " 
 
 " Why, you 're not afraid, are you, Emily ? 
 You won't lose your nerve, will you ? " 
 
 " I am afraid, yes, of something too good to 
 be true, Walter. But I 'm not going to lose 
 my nerve I 'm going to get my head above 
 water ; and d' you know, I 'm sure Sally 's 
 helping me." 
 
 " I wish she 'd help me a bit," he murmured. 
 
 She shot a quick glance at him. " So you 
 were afraid of my brother's picture ? " she 
 laughed. He had no time to answer, for just 
 then came his cue. 
 
 She followed him in a few moments, and 
 from the instant she appeared, she held every 
 eye. Miss Max had done well enough, every 
 one thought, but Mr. Toland in the first en 
 trance opened his eyes to see how Emily Hep 
 burn carried herself. He was no less startled to 
 hear the applause she received. Just then the 
 manager appeared behind him. 
 
 " What 's up, anyway ? " he demanded. 
 " There 's certainly something doing, the house 
 was sold out at eight o'clock. First time we've
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 had the S. R. O. sign up since the piece 
 opened. Who 's that girl, anyway ? What are 
 they roaring about in front? " 
 
 "Watch her," said Toland. "By Jove, I 
 had no idea she had it in her ! She 's carry 
 ing the whole play ; and to think I gave the 
 part to Miss Hope ! Left us in the lurch, too, 
 damn her ! " 
 
 "Who are all those flowers for?" he asked, 
 as boy after boy passed up the stairs to the 
 dressing-rooms. 
 
 " Miss Hepburn, sir," said a stage hand. 
 " There are half-a-dozen boxes from Thorley's 
 there." 
 
 " I never knew we had such an attraction," 
 said the manager. 
 
 At the end of the first act the flowers began 
 to come over the footlights. It was against the 
 rule at McCabe's, but there were so many, and 
 so persistently forced, that the ushers were 
 obliged to hand them up. Miss Hepburn was 
 called out by name several times. She was 
 trembling now, with an air that no one had seen 
 before with her. The star was glowering, and 
 in the wings there was a murmur of comment 
 from the actors. 
 [66]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 Emily came off at last, and once off, nearly 
 fainted. Mr. Toland came up and said a few 
 words that revived her. She ran upstairs, escap 
 ing lightly the congratulations of the company, 
 and began hurriedly to dress for the second act. 
 When she came out, Walter Blackfield met her 
 on the stairs. 
 
 " Before I tell you how wonderful you are 
 tell me, did you mean what you said ? May I 
 ask you now ? You Ve set me on fire, Emily ! 
 Tell me now what to expect ! I can't wait ! " 
 
 " ' We 're passionately met in this sad world ' ! " 
 she laughed. By this time she had lost her fear 
 and was reveling in the ecstasy of a double, 
 perhaps a triple happiness. To make good in 
 her part was joy enough for her; to heighten it, 
 intoxicate it with Walter Blackfield's love, was 
 almost too much. 
 
 But he insisted upon an answer, barring her 
 way downstairs. She laid her hand on his. 
 
 " Don't wake me out of my dream," she 
 said. " I am walking on air. If I succeed this 
 night, if I make a hit, you '// win too ! " 
 Then she ran past him and took her place in 
 the wings. 
 
 There was another storm when she appeared. 
 
 [67]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 The tumult was, she thought, ridiculous, but it 
 was a part of the dream. She paid no attention 
 to it, for this was her best scene, and she swept 
 into it tingling, rapt. It was not till there came 
 a lull in her action that, through the open wings, 
 she saw members of the company pointing and 
 gesticulating. She turned at her first opportu 
 nity, and almost for the first time looked into 
 the house. She began with the stage box, and 
 there her eyes stopped. 
 
 There Sally sat, like a queen enthroned, 
 sparkling with jewels, smiling, with her lids 
 half dropped, applauding at every laugh. Be 
 side her sat a young man with a small black 
 mustache. The two had just come in, and 
 already the company thrilled as with a shock 
 of electricity. The tempo of the piece quick 
 ened ; it went now with gusto. The star her 
 self became infected with the excitement, and 
 her comedy soared. Every one played to the 
 stage box, every one wondered and whispered. 
 There came another wave of applause at the 
 end of the act, and again the stage was besieged 
 with roses. It did not seem as if there could 
 be so many American Beauties in town. Emily 
 was nearly terrified with her success. 
 [68]
 
 Sally, the Scroyle 
 
 The last intermission was short, and gave her 
 scarcely time to change her costume. Then, as 
 she stood there before the glass gazing at her 
 self transformed, the wonder and the mystery 
 reached a crisis. The gems were genuine, the 
 costume had been made expressly for her, Sally 
 Hope was responsible for the full house, the 
 applause, the flowers that now almost crowded 
 her out of her own dressing-room ! Then who 
 was Sally Hope? 
 
 She flew down to the stage, dispatched a 
 note to the box, and went on, " like starlight, 
 hid in jewels." She was indeed playing " op 
 posite " Walter now, and playing hard, playing 
 her heart against his, and playing to an audi 
 ence of one. She did not hear the applause, 
 she saw only Walter and Sally, and she saw 
 that Sally understood. 
 
 At the end, as the curtain fell and rose, 
 Walter turned to her and whispered, 
 
 " Now ! Are you satisfied with your triumph ? 
 Will you give me mine? " 
 
 She clasped his hand tighter and smiled an 
 answer. 
 
 At this moment Miss Hope arose from her 
 seat and flung her corsage bouquet of orchids 
 
 [69]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 fair over the footlights. Walter ran for it, and 
 rescued it just as the heavy act-drop fell. 
 
 "Who is she?" he cried. "Who is she, 
 anyway? " 
 
 " I sent her a note round by the front," 
 Emily said. " I wrote, f " O, thou hast been 
 a most prodigious comet!" Who are you?' 
 Here 's a card let 's see what it says." She 
 turned to the light. It read, " Sally, the 
 Scroyle ! " 
 
 " Ah," said Walter, " f they talk of Jupiter 
 he 's but a squib-cracker to her ! ' ' Ten 
 such camphire constitutions would call again the 
 Golden Age in question ' ! *' 
 
 " Oh," Emily breathed warmly, " is n't she 
 4 a lasting mine of joy ' ? " 
 
 " No, that 'syou, sweetheart ! " he protested, 
 as he bore her away. Then, just before the 
 company captured her, he cried, " f I have a 
 new soul in me, made of a North Wind ' ! "
 
 Ill 
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 JUST what turned Miss Million's interest 
 towards the hardware business, I don't 
 know, unless it was some chance remark of 
 mine to the effect that hardware stores were always 
 busy. She set me, at any rate, to find an interesting 
 one, and it was my description of Mr. John Gow y 
 given somewhat trivially at his expense, that in 
 duced her to experiment next at Deacon Brothers*. 
 
 She obtained the position, not without some 
 trouble, and went immediately and enthusiastically 
 to work at what would, to most, prove the dullest 
 possible employment. 
 
 As Stella Delafield, I saw her at times while 
 she was in her cashier's window, and as Miss 
 Million of California, nearly every evening in her 
 apartment on East Fifty-Eighth Street. It was 
 pretty hard work for her, but the excitement of 
 the game kept her up wonderfully ; and on Sundays, 
 she rested herself with automobile trips, usually 
 in my company.
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 / was able to assist her in many ways through 
 this adventure, buying the weapons she presented 
 to the Whaup, leading him indirectly to his Har 
 lem flat, and in other minor matters. 
 
 It was not until two years later, after this 
 period of adventure was over, that she again saw 
 the Whaup and the Whimbrel; but meanwhile, 
 even during her other adventures, Miss Million 
 kept, through me, in constant touch with their 
 lives.
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 DEACON BROTHERS' was like any 
 other big, downtown hardware store ; 
 as animated with busy clerks and im 
 patient customers, as crowded with heteroge 
 neous stock, as choked with fascinating tools, 
 machines, and materials in every aisle and pas 
 sage. Underfoot, scattered papers, pasteboard 
 boxes, nails, strings, and tags ; overhead, tiers 
 of shelves and drawers, filled with hinges, locks, 
 and fittings, each with its sample wired to the 
 outside. In front of the shop were the great 
 show-windows, filled with cunning, glistening 
 implements, where beyond the plate-glass, the 
 traffic of the city roared. In the rear was the 
 square, cavernous doorway, high above the side 
 walk, where brawling teamsters toiled at heavy 
 cases which creaked and hurtled. Halfway be 
 tween the two was an annex to the main store, 
 a labyrinth of dim, narrow alleys, leading to 
 unexpected store-rooms for paints and brushes, 
 ship chandlery, or wire and metals. 
 
 [73]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Through all this confusion was woven, like 
 a spider's web, a radial system of wires, con 
 verging at the cashier's window. Along these 
 airy tracks the carriers sped, to stop with a snap 
 above the cashier's head, waiting for her to 
 make change and shoot them back along the 
 pulsing, singing wire. 
 
 For a week there had been a new electricity 
 in the air of Deacon Brothers' store. For a 
 week a new face, more demurely coquettish 
 than any of its predecessors, had been seen at 
 the cashier's window. For a week the salesmen 
 had made unnecessary errands to the office, and 
 had departed smiling. So far, there had been 
 at least two mistakes in making change every 
 day, also ; but no one, not even old Mr. Dea 
 con, seemed to care. 
 
 The new cashier was quaint and incongruous, 
 the one spot of color in the establishment, and 
 differed from previous occupants of the window 
 by many signs. She never wore paper cuffs, 
 though her fresh shirtwaists often were adorned 
 with delicate laces or embroideries at the neck 
 and wrists. One missed, too, the black, soiled 
 service apron which former cashiers were wont 
 to affect, and the pencil stuck in the hair. No 
 [74]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 jangle of jewelry or flash of showy ornaments 
 came from the little cage. 
 
 Miss Stella Delafield came with the evident 
 belief that nails were sold by the dozen, and 
 hinges by the pound. She did not know the 
 difference between a hasp and a door-jamb, 
 or butts from escutcheon pins. Yet her inex 
 perience was so distractingly original, and her 
 desire to learn so charmingly avid, that the 
 shipping-clerk had spent entire noon hours in 
 teaching her the terminology of the craft. He 
 explained laboriously the difference between 
 the teeth of a cross-cut and a ripping saw, the 
 distinctions of bits and augers and gimlets, the 
 characteristics of cut nails, wire nails, and clinch 
 nails, and screws of sorts. He had awakened 
 her mind to a knowledge of rat-tail files and riv 
 ets but Miss Delafield still had much to learn. 
 
 She did not need any instructor, however, in 
 her study of human nature. Here she was an 
 adept, alert and sapient. Her interest was so 
 keen that it was not long before she was sym 
 pathizing with the errand boy in his troubles at 
 night-school, and advising the shipping-clerk 
 what to give his sister for a birthday present. 
 She did not talk much, but watched everything 
 
 [75]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 that passed, often smiling suddenly, with a 
 quick glee that half closed her hazel eyes, and 
 set two dimples dancing in her cheeks. 
 
 The bookkeeper, John Gow, standing at a 
 desk beside the cashier, had ample opportunity 
 for watching Miss Delafield, and not seldom, 
 with a good-natured pity for her innocence, for 
 correcting her mistakes. During the hours when 
 business was slack, he found many chances to 
 talk to her and to supplement the commercial 
 education which the shipping-clerk had begun. 
 For this kindness he soon received an unex 
 pected reward. Miss Delafield, being one of 
 those rare spirits with the power of conferring 
 sobriquets, had during the first week nomi 
 nated him " the Whaup." 
 
 John Gow had never before possessed a 
 nickname, and he accepted this distinguishing 
 honor with a pathetic pleasure. He was shy 
 and reticent and awkward, always a laughing 
 stock for his associates, but as inevitably their 
 refuge in times of financial trouble, for he was 
 as generous as he was absurd. He was a strange, 
 anaemic, freckled youth, and not, in point of 
 fact, unlike the curlew or great whaup of Miss 
 Delafield's sprightly fancy. He had a pale 
 [76]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 thatch of auburn hair, pale blue protruding 
 eyes, a large, curved nose, and a long neck re 
 markable for the Adam's apple which rose and 
 fell as he talked. His figure was consistently 
 long and angular, and he came to the office per 
 petually clad in a wrinkled pepper-and-salt suit, 
 always changing his coat for a thin, shiny black 
 one, whose sleeves were so short that his hands 
 protruded from them like the talons of a bird. 
 Seriously intent upon his accounts, he seemed 
 as colorless and commonplace a hack as ever 
 added a column of figures ; but when he smiled, 
 showing a line of strong, even teeth, white as 
 snow, there was a gentle lovableness about his 
 face that gave it an active charm. 
 
 As time went on, the Whaup, emboldened 
 by Miss Delafield's good nature, made shy 
 advances in familiarity. For a while he treated 
 her to the embarrassed favors a primary school 
 child might show his teacher,, presenting her 
 with pictorial calendars, little advertising note 
 books, or even half pounds of cheap choco 
 lates. These she accepted with such apparent 
 pleasure that he ventured still farther from his 
 shell of reserve, and invited her to share his 
 lunches with him in the Annex. 
 
 [77]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Here she found him, one day, as she was ex 
 ploring with curiosity the unknown passages of 
 the store. She also had brought her luncheon, 
 and ate it as she strolled half a broiled duck, 
 an egg with mayonnaise, asparagus, long out 
 of season, and a little pot of Bar-le-Duc. She 
 came unexpectedly upon him, as he was seated 
 on a coil of rope amongst the anchors and pul 
 leys, chewing at a graham sandwich, and read 
 ing from a book. She sat down upon a keg of 
 nails beside him, and he put his reading away 
 lingeringly. 
 
 " Did you ever read * The Three Guards 
 men ' ? " he asked, with his friendly smile. 
 
 Miss Delafield nodded, and her smile was 
 as engaging as his. 
 
 " Say, it 's a great book, is n't it ? D'Ar- 
 tagnan was a dandy ! That 's the kind of man 
 I 'd like to be. I often wonder what he 'd do 
 if he came to New York." 
 
 " He 'd probably be a policeman," said Miss 
 Delafield. 
 
 The Whaup smiled almost patronizingly, as 
 if she were a very little girl. Then he looked 
 up at a dusty, cobwebbed window with an in 
 tent, far-away gaze. " I don't suppose you can 
 
 [78]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 understand what I mean," he said ; " nobody 
 seems to be able to. I 'm a kind of a crank 
 about it, I suppose, but I believe there 's just 
 as much romance in the world nowadays as 
 there was then." 
 
 "Nobody ever has adventures nowadays, 
 except criminals," said Miss Delafield. "Did 
 you ever have one, Whaup ? " 
 
 " No," he said ; the word was long drawn 
 out and plaintive. " It does n't seem possible 
 in a city, does it ? Everybody 's too busy sell 
 ing things and making money. But things do 
 happen out West all the time ! " 
 
 "Why don't you go out there and try it, 
 then ? " Miss Delafield had not taken her eyes 
 from the Whaup's wistful face. 
 
 "Gosh! I'd like to," he cried. "But it 
 takes more money than I Ve got. Perhaps I 
 may get there some day, though. I know just 
 what I 'd do. I 'd go to the Black Hills. But 
 I wish I had a gun I 'd need it there, sure. 
 I 'm crazy about knives and firearms." 
 
 " Say," he added, " I saw a girl driving an 
 automobile in the Park, last Sunday, and she 
 looked so much like you that it might have 
 been your sister. Is n't it funny that people 
 
 [79]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 like that, who do have money all they want 
 - don't do something interesting with it, in 
 stead of spending it just like everybody else ? 
 Think what a girl like that could do, if she 
 wanted to have fun with Destiny if she only 
 had imagination ! Why does n't she travel or 
 do something different ? Rich people are al 
 ways so stupid ! " 
 
 " I suppose it would be * different ' to her if 
 she had to work for her living in a place like 
 this. Think how that might amuse an auto 
 mobile girl with money ! " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " said the Whaup. " Fancy 
 romance in a hardware store ! It 's impossible. 
 It 's absurd ! " 
 
 He rose to go back to his desk with the 
 far-away look still in his pale blue eyes. Stella's 
 hazel eyes were still eager and amused. They 
 seemed always to be amused at something. She 
 watched the Whaup, now, more closely than 
 ever, but he did not notice it. Over his desk 
 hung the advertising calendar of some manu 
 facturer of firearms, an exciting, highly col 
 ored picture of a frontier scout surrounded by 
 Indians. Whenever the Whaup did look up 
 from his work, it was usually at this. That 
 [80]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 afternoon, during a lull in her work, he gave 
 it an absorbed gaze, and then, leaning towards 
 her window, he whispered breathlessly, 
 
 " What would you do, if a wonderful, beau 
 tiful woman in Russian sables and diamonds 
 should rush up to you, while you were walking 
 up Broadway, and thrust a hot buttered roll 
 into your hand, snip off the second button of 
 your jacket with a little pair of scissors, and say 
 * Parallelogram ! ' and run down a cross-street, 
 looking back over her shoulder as if she were 
 frightened ? " 
 
 " I 'd scream for help," said the cashier. 
 
 The Whaup turned to his ledger with a look 
 of disappointment. 
 
 "What would you do?" Stella added. 
 
 The Whaup looked at her very seriously. 
 " I don't know," he said. " It 's been worrying 
 me all the afternoon. It would be terrible to 
 have an adventure like that, and then not be 
 able to follow it up." 
 
 "You 're not a whaup at all," said the cashier ; 
 " you 're a goose ! " 
 
 A few days after that, he came into the office 
 and greeted Miss Delafield excitedly. " Say," 
 he began, " three times this week I 've met 
 
 [81]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 a man coming across Union Square with a 
 pretty girl who was crying. I 've a good mind 
 to take a day off, next time, and shadow 
 them ! " 
 
 " You 'd better stick to your hammers and 
 turning-lathes and brass knobs," the cashier 
 replied. " I see by the paper that there 's a 
 hardware trust being formed, and that prices 
 on all building materials are going up. I wonder 
 if our firm is in it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so sick of the hardware business, 
 it does n't interest me at all," said the Whaup. 
 " I consider this office life merely a dream. I 
 only really live after business hours, at night. 
 Say, I 've got a great game ! It 's bully fun. Last 
 night I pretended that I was the Duke of Corn 
 wall, traveling incognito, and I walked all over 
 the West Side looking for adventures. I did n't 
 find a single open door, though, nor any beck 
 oning girls or anything only a drunken man 
 who called me ( Charlie ; ' but it was fun, any 
 way. If I had only had the money, I '11 bet I 
 could have made things happen. To-night I 
 think I '11 go down on the Bowery and ask every 
 policeman I meet if he 's seen my runaway 
 wife, and see what they say." 
 [82]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 Scarcely a day passed without some such 
 manifestation of the Whaup's secret passion 
 for romance. The cashier listened interestedly 
 to each new story, and faithfully kept his con 
 fidence. Sometimes the two, after hurrying 
 through a luncheon together, would spend what 
 time was left of their noon hour walking the 
 downtown streets. On these excursions the 
 Whaup's picturesque, agile fancy regaled her 
 with many impromptu inventions, interpreting 
 the matter-of-fact incidents they witnessed in 
 terms of the most deliciously thrilling adventure. 
 Together they followed interesting pedestrians, 
 or paused to eavesdrop at the conversations of 
 waiting groups, or picked possible heroes and 
 heroines from amongst the passers-by. They 
 visited pawnshops, and he made up for her 
 strange stories of unredeemed pledges. 
 
 Invariably their itinerary included a stop at the 
 show-windows of a gun-shop in the vicinity, 
 where the envious Whaup would gloat over the 
 display of weapons, and descant upon the merits 
 of Colt's 44*8 and magazine pistols. He noticed 
 every change in the arrangement of the stock, 
 and knew something of every item in its col 
 lection. 
 
 [83]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 The cashier made occasional tours of inves 
 tigation downtown on her own account, leav 
 ing the Whaup in the Annex alone with his 
 book. She used at these times to patronize a 
 dairy-lunch place a few blocks away, and it was 
 at this little restaurant Stella met the young 
 woman whom, with her customary pleasure in 
 giving nicknames, she immediately dubbed 
 "the Whimbrel." 
 
 Brown eyes had the Whimbrel, and fine, 
 satiny, brown hair, trimly dressed without re 
 gard to the shop-girl's usual idea of style. Her 
 little round face was still childlike and pearl- 
 pink, save when, blushing furiously on slight 
 cause, it was suffused with carmine. She had 
 an habitual timid, wondering expression, and 
 her small red lips, usually half opened, showed 
 a straight line of little blue-white teeth, and 
 occasionally a dainty, pointed tongue. 
 
 She was so conscientious in her work, and 
 so interested in it, so willing to advise her cus 
 tomers in regard to their orders, so careful not 
 to spill one drop of coffee into the saucer, that 
 Miss Delafield became interested in her at once. 
 Usually coming late, she often had time for a 
 short conversation with the little waitress, and 
 [84]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 before long the acquaintance grew into a more 
 active friendship. The cashier sometimes waited 
 for the Whimbrel until the dairy had closed, 
 and walked uptown with her. At these times 
 it was always the Whimbrel who talked, and 
 Miss Delafield who listened attentively. 
 
 One day, as the two girls were thus home 
 ward bound, the Whimbrel suddenly seized 
 Miss Delafield's arm, and hurried her into a 
 picture store. 
 
 " I Ve just got to have that picture of the 
 Bargello ! " she exclaimed. "They 're marked 
 down to twelve cents to-day, and I 'm afraid it 
 will be taken if I wait. I really can't afford it, 
 but I 've been longing for it for six months, and 
 I just can't stand it any longer ! " 
 
 " What in the world do you want of that 
 little photograph ? " Miss Delafield asked, after 
 the purchase had been rapturously made. 
 
 "Oh, you 'd laugh at me! " said the Whim 
 brel, a new, deeper look in her wide brown 
 eyes. Miss Delafield clasped her hand in a 
 promise of sympathy. " Well, then," said the 
 Whimbrel, as they walked on, " I 'm traveling 
 in northern Italy ! " 
 
 Miss Delafield looked puzzled. 
 
 [85]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " It 's my one extravagance, but you need n't 
 scold me. You 're extravagant yourself, you 
 know, Stella. I 've seen your underwear you 
 can't tell me I Those silk stockings you have 
 on cost four dollars, if they cost a cent. And 
 you wear hand-made stocks and cuffs and things 
 they cost money, even if you do make them 
 yourself! I spend all my spare money on pho 
 tographs and maps, and economize on clothes. 
 All the tips I get, I use in northern Italy. Of 
 course it is n't much, for they don't tip much 
 in the dairy. But I try to be as nice as I can 
 to everybody, whether they tip me or not, 
 because I don't want this to make me mer 
 cenary." 
 
 " How did you ever get such a crazy notion 
 into your head anyway ? " said Miss Delafield, 
 looking at her curiously. 
 
 "Why, one day I happened to see a red-cov 
 ered book lying on top of an ash-barrel, and 
 I took it out and carried it home. It was an 
 old copy of Baedeker's guide-book to north 
 ern Italy. I sat up till two o'clock that night, I 
 remember, and every night after that, till I had 
 finished it, all except three pages about Pisa 
 that were torn out. Oh, Stella, it was like a 
 [86]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 beautiful dream ! It was a dream I have n't 
 really waked up from, even yet ! There was an 
 old Italian lived next to us ; he taught music, 
 and I got him to tell me all about it, and pro 
 nounce the names for me such wonderful, 
 beautiful names, Stella, just like music Lago 
 di Como, Lugano, Bellagio, Fiesole, and even 
 the common ones like campanile and piazza. 
 You know the cities don't have the names we 
 know them by at all ! Florence is Firenze, and 
 Venice is Venezia. Well, I know the book al 
 most by heart now, and so I travel about from 
 place to place on the maps, through the streets, 
 past all the beautiful, lovely buildings, and over 
 the wonderful marble bridges, and into the 
 churches. I 've bought loads of photographs, 
 but there are so many I can't get ! I 've learned 
 lots, but there are so many things I want so 
 much to know about Byzantine architecture, 
 and Botticelli, and the Renaissance. The old 
 Italian died last summer, so I have to puzzle 
 it all out by myself now. I 'm trying to save 
 up money so I can really go some day. Do 
 you know, the very stones they build houses 
 of in Venice are all colored ; think of it ! If I 
 could only have one day and one night there 
 
 [87]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 in a gondola, and see the palaces and the funny 
 little passageways and * poquito ' canals, and 
 the Bridge of Sighs, and the Rialto oh, I 'd 
 
 work for the next five years without complain- 
 
 I 
 
 ing! 
 
 "You're a queer little girl, are n't you?" 
 said Miss Delafield. " How perfectly absurd 
 you are. Why, you 're almost as funny as the 
 Whaup ! " 
 
 "Who is the Whaup?" the Whimbrel 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, he 's just a silly boy who works at our 
 place. I never saw such a goose, so I call him 
 the Whaup, the same as I call you the Whim 
 brel. He 's all the time pretending he 's a 
 prince in disguise or somebody else that he 
 is n't, instead of attending to business. He 
 goes out every night looking for adventures 
 like a schoolboy. Is n't it perfectly foolish of 
 him ? " 
 
 " No, it 's fine I " cried the Whimbrel, her 
 face lighting. " Why, I had no idea men were 
 ever like that ! It 's perfectly lovely to think 
 of somebody really doing it. I thought I was 
 the only person in the world who had It." 
 
 "Had what?" said Miss Delafield. 
 [88]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 " IT," cried the Whimbrel. " He 's got //, 
 I do believe ! What did you say he was a 
 Whaup ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Delafield, " he 's just the 
 same silly sort of curlew as you, dear ! " 
 
 " Oh, you don't understand nobody un 
 derstands ! But you 're awfully nice and dear, 
 even if you have n't got It." She paused, to add 
 presently, " I think I 'd like that "Whaup ! " 
 
 The routine of the Whaup's dreary book 
 keeping was broken, one day, by the arrival 
 of an express package addressed to John Gow, 
 Esq. The cashier watched him slyly as he 
 opened it. Within her experience he had never 
 received a letter, or been visited by a friend, 
 or even mentioned an acquaintance excepting 
 his landlady, an aged aunt in Hoboken, and a 
 little niece, for whom he was wont to cut out 
 advertising pictures and paste them into a scrap- 
 book. 
 
 His looks now betokened a high and won 
 dering excitement. With eager fingers he 
 opened the pasteboard box; then his face went 
 on fire. After a single rapt glance at the con 
 tents of the package, he hastily shoved it into a 
 
 [89]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny- 
 closet behind him, and closed the door. Then 
 he went over to the cashier. 
 
 " It 's come ! " he whispered solemnly. 
 
 " What 's come, Whaup ? " 
 
 " The Adventure ! " he hissed. " Did you 
 see that package that just came for me ? // was 
 a Luger magazine pistol and a Colt's 44! " 
 
 " Who in the world ever sent them ? " she 
 asked, smiling. 
 
 " I don't know. And I don't want to know ! 
 It's a mystery. Don't tell any one about it, 
 will you ? It might spoil everything ! " 
 
 He returned to his desk. But every ten 
 minutes, at least, during the remainder of the 
 day, he stole to the closet, took a furtive, fas 
 cinated look at the weapons, and shut them in 
 again. His face, illumined by rapture, then re 
 turned patiently to the ledger. At six o'clock, 
 Miss Delafield saw him go to the closet, change 
 his coat, take the smaller pistol from the box, 
 slip it into his pocket, and walk splendidly away 
 without a word. 
 
 From that day on, the Whaup's attitude 
 
 towards the cashier, while still as kind, was the 
 
 slightest degree more patronizing, as of one 
 
 who, ennobled by high Romance, condescends 
 
 [90]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 to the humble wayfarer of the Commonplace.. 
 He kept an indulgent eye upon her work, 
 and encouraged her to make the most of her 
 rather limited capacity, advising her to study 
 stenography. He assumed, in short, the genial 
 pose of Mentor. So much had the distinction 
 of Fate done for him. He came back to his 
 desk, one noon, to say, when Miss Delafield 
 came in, 
 
 " Say, who was that pretty little girl I saw 
 you with yesterday on Broadway? " 
 
 " Oh, that was the Whimbrel is n't she 
 nice ? " 
 
 He showed a whimsical interest. "What,, 
 the whimbrel, or little whaup, may-whaup, 
 tang-whaup, or curlew ? The Neumenias Ph^eo- 
 pus ? She must be a relative of mine ! " The 
 familiar words came freely. " What is she 
 like ? " 
 
 " Oh, she 's a perfect little fool. If you call 
 me extravagant, I wonder what you 'd think of 
 her ! Now would n't you think that a girl who 
 works for six dollars a week would have more 
 sense than to spend it on photographs of old 
 buildings and stupid cathedrals, and waste her 
 time dreaming about Italy, instead of trying
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 ^ 
 
 to educate herself for a better position ? She 
 pretends she 's traveling all the time, and sits 
 up in her room, mooning away over maps 
 and pictures, till I should think she'd grow 
 crazy." 
 
 "You don't say so! " said the Whaup, with 
 his queer, intent stare at the Indian calendar. 
 " She is a whimbrel, is n't she ! Say, I 'd rather 
 like to know her, I think ! " 
 
 " Oh, you 're crazy enough already ! " said 
 the cashier. 
 
 " I never knew anybody who did things like 
 that," he went on dreamily. " Somehow, I 
 think perhaps she'd understand. You see, you 
 never try to get out of the every-day rut, and 
 you don't know what it means to play the 
 game." 
 
 " What game ? " asked the cashier. 
 
 "THE Game!" he exclaimed, smiling at 
 her in a superior way. " You 're awfully nice, 
 Miss Delafield, but you have no sense of ro 
 mance, and so you can't play it. But I 'd like 
 to know that Whimbrel ! " 
 
 He came back to the subject of the Whim 
 brel cautiously, several times, that afternoon, 
 and the cashier answered each of his questions 
 [92]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 with a smile. The next noon, noticing that she 
 had brought her lunch, he left his unopened, 
 slipped mysteriously out of the office, and made 
 his way to the dairy alone. There was a new, 
 bold light in his eye, and the spirit of adven 
 ture showed in his carriage as he entered the 
 shop, sat down at a table, and looked curiously 
 about him. 
 
 A black-frocked, round-faced, pink-and- 
 white girl with neatly parted brown satiny hair 
 came up to take his order. The Whaup's gen 
 tle voice was a bit unsteady as he called for a 
 glass of milk and a piece of pumpkin pie. He 
 dared not look at the little waitress. As soon 
 as she had turned away, however, he mustered 
 up his courage, took out a soft lead pencil, 
 and wrote the word " whimbrel " in large plain 
 letters upon the tablecloth. 
 
 She returned with his order, and was about 
 to set it down upon the table, when she caught 
 sight of the writing. The Whaup, staring 
 boldly at her now, saw her blush desperately, 
 and her hand shake so that the milk slopped 
 from the tall tumbler into the saucer. Her lips 
 were parted, her breath came and went, but she 
 neither spoke nor smiled. 
 
 [93]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 "I am the Whaup," he said. "Are you the 
 Whimbrel?" 
 
 She nodded ; then giving him one quick, 
 frightened glance, she hurried away. 
 
 He had followed only his boyish dreams 
 before that, but now he became a man, and he 
 pursued a man's quarry. The blood ran warm 
 in his veins, his eyes burned with soft fires, his 
 head was held high. He became of a new, sud 
 den importance to himself, he felt a new dig 
 nity, a new power. He walked home that day 
 more a prince in disguise than ever. And there 
 was spring in the land, abounding, jubilant, 
 intoxicating, like Heaven spilling over upon 
 the earth to drench it with rapture. 
 
 The Whaup came again and again to the little 
 shop, and by degrees dared conversation with 
 her. The Whimbrel, as timid as he, before, ac 
 cepted, with a fluttering heart, the tribute of his 
 smile and the reverence of his blue eyes. He 
 began to wait for her, to walk uptown with her 
 through the June sunshine. For a long time 
 they talked but little, but soon they discovered 
 such a rare similarity in their points of view, 
 that the more common obvious remarks and 
 comments were unnecessary, and they con- 
 [94]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 versed in queer elliptical phrases that a hearer 
 would find hard to understand. It was a secret 
 language instinctively felt and comprehended 
 by such fey spirits as they. Often their conver 
 sation would be like this : 
 
 "Yes, you certainly have got It, Whaup !" 
 
 " And you know how to play the Game, 
 Whimbrel." 
 
 "Isn't Stella a dear?" 
 
 " Yes but if she only understood ! " 
 
 " She never will know, will she ? " 
 
 " Never ! Poor Stella ! " 
 
 There is no such thing as " making " love 
 for such rare comrades. Love comes itself like 
 an opening flower, as naturally as the mating 
 of birds. Confirmed by tiny coincidences of 
 taste and feeling and sensibility, it illumined 
 life so marvelously that it needed no announce 
 ment, no proof, no test of time or absence. 
 In a flash of insight they recognized divinity, 
 and the rest was so plain, so simple to their 
 eyes, that it needed no tribute even of wonder 
 it was inevitable. Their fresh, ardent spirits 
 ran singing to meet each other. 
 
 The cashier kept sedulously apart, now, from 
 
 [95]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 the Whaup and the Whimbrel, avoiding the 
 streets where they might walk. If she missed 
 them, she did not show it. No one, looking 
 at her, would have suspected her of being un 
 happy. There was the same keen interest in 
 life in everything that made her environment. 
 She was always watching amusedly the little 
 commonplace dramas of the store bickering 
 customers, harassed clerks, and jovial team 
 sters. Often her quick smile came and went, 
 narrowing her eyes for an instant ; as often her 
 eyes would soften and burn with hazel fires, in 
 sympathy or kindness. Sometimes she ate her 
 lunch alone, sitting upon the Whaup's favor 
 ite coil of rope in the Annex ; sometimes she 
 talked with the shipping-clerk about his wife 
 and children ; sometimes she sought new res 
 taurants, or disappeared, to come back in haste 
 from no one knew where. Occasionally a young 
 man with a small black mustache came in to see 
 her for fifteen minutes' conversation always 
 at the noon hour, while the Whaup was away. 
 One day, as she was slowly walking uptown, 
 watching the passers-by with her habitual curi 
 osity, she came unexpectedly upon the Whaup 
 and the Whimbrel. They were studying the 
 [96]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 fa$ade of one of the newer office buildings, and 
 the Whimbrel was pointing out some detail 
 in the rustication of the wall which reminded 
 her of a Florentine palace. The Whaup's long 
 neck was craned and his mouth was open, as 
 he followed her words. He had one hand laid 
 protectingly upon the Whimbrel's arm, the 
 other caressed a moulding of carved sandstone. 
 The Whimbrel caught sight of Miss Delafield, 
 who was trying to pass unnoticed. 
 
 "Why, it's Stella!" she exclaimed. "Oh, 
 do come and walk uptown with us, dear ! " 
 
 The Whaup's face burst into a wonderful 
 smile. " Let 's tell her, Whimbrel." The 
 Whimbrel nodded enthusiastically, and blushed 
 violently. 
 
 " We 're engaged, Miss Delafield," he an 
 nounced. 
 
 " Why, are you really ? I'm so surprised. 
 But I 'm so glad, too ! Is n't it lovely ! Why, 
 is n't it romantic! How did you ever meet 
 each other? I always intended to introduce 
 you, but " 
 
 "That 's the beautiful part of it ! " said the 
 Whimbrel joyously. " We were n't introduced 
 at all ! Ordinary people are always introduced, 
 
 [97]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 but we just found each other all by ourselves, 
 did n't we, Whaup ? Think of it ! In all this 
 great, big city, we found each other ! It was It 
 that brought us together, I 'm sure ! You poor 
 dear, you '11 never know how wonderful It is ! 
 I wish I could make you understand. It began 
 to come the very first day we were engaged. I 
 got the most beautiful present you ever saw 
 Botticelli's " Annunciation " not a little one, 
 but a big Braun print. It 's the most beautiful 
 picture in the world! And a book about Flor 
 ence, too ! We 're reading it together, with a 
 map!" 
 
 " Why, who sent it ? " exclaimed Miss Dela- 
 field. " The Whaup, naturally ! " 
 
 " No, he did n't ! At first I thought of course 
 he did, but now I 'm so glad he did n't. I 
 don't want to know who sent it. It 's just a 
 part of It. It 's a blessed mystery ! Now we 're 
 going to do something wonderful ! Shall we tell 
 Stella about it, Whaup? " 
 
 " Yes, she can be umpire," said the Whaup. 
 
 "We won't tell her till we get up there, 
 though," said the Whimbrel, and putting an arm 
 in Miss Delafield's, and one in the Whaup's, 
 she started them up Broadway. 
 [98]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 They walked, chattering blissfully, in simple, 
 obvious dialogue so that the unillumined cashier 
 might understand, till the three reached Madi 
 son Square. There the Whimbrel steered them 
 up to the Farragut Monument, and they sat 
 down in a row upon its curved seat. 
 
 " Now ! " she said, drawing a long breath, 
 " this is what we 're going to do. The Whaup 
 has saved up two hundred dollars, and I have 
 a hundred and sixty dollars and seventy cents 
 in the savings bank. We 're going to put 
 it together and make a what do you call it, 
 Whaup ? " 
 
 " A pool," said the Whaup. 
 
 " We 're going to make a pool. Then we 're 
 going to draw lots, and the one that wins is 
 going to go on a glorious vacation. If the 
 Whaup wins, he 's going to take his revolvers 
 and go out West to Leadville and the Black 
 Hills and the Yellowstone Park. If I win, I 'm 
 going to take a steerage ticket on a Mediter 
 ranean steamer to Naples, and go straight to 
 Tuscany, and stay till I 've spent every last 
 solitary cent." 
 
 " Of course it 's foolish and reckless and ex 
 travagant, and it takes my breath away," said 
 
 [99]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Miss Delafield, " but I suppose there 's no use 
 arguing with you you 're both crazy. Shall 
 I hold the lots?" 
 
 She tore two strips from a newspaper, a long 
 and a short one, and folded them up to the 
 same size. Then she went behind the seat, and 
 arranged them in her hand. When she came 
 back, she held them out, saying, " The short 
 one wins." 
 
 The Whimbrel drew one forth gingerly, the 
 Whaup took the other. The Whimbrel's was 
 the shorter. 
 
 She put her face in her hands and sat for 
 a moment without speaking, while the cashier 
 watched her, and the Whaup's face grew radi 
 ant with happiness. When the Whimbrel raised 
 her head, there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I was so sure you were going to get it, 
 Whaup ! " she cried. " I can't take it myself 
 I don't want it ? I would n't enjoy it one bit ! 
 It would be so selfish ! 1 wanted you to go ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " the Whaup exclaimed. " Of 
 course you '11 go. You Ve simply got to go. 
 You can write to me every day, and I '11 enjoy 
 it just as much as you do I '11 enjoy it more 
 than if I went myself, really ! "
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 " I can't do it[" the Whimbrel moaned. 
 
 " You promised," said the Whaup sternly. 
 
 " I don't care, I never intended to go ! Let 's 
 try it again ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! Do you think I 'd go ? I would n't 
 go off alone for the world ! " 
 
 The Whimbrel stared at him sharply. " Do 
 you mean to say, Whaup, that you were in 
 tending to cheat ? " 
 
 " Of course I was ! " he affirmed unblush- 
 ingly. " I was going to fix those papers so that 
 you would win. I guess we '11 have to give the 
 whole scheme up now." 
 
 " And get married ! " the cashier exclaimed, 
 beaming at them. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Whimbrel ingenuously, 
 " that would be nicer than going anywhere in 
 the world ! " 
 
 The Whaup's eyes flashed. " Oh, will you ? " 
 
 "You can spend the pool on furniture ; that 
 will be a very sensible thing to do," Miss Del- 
 afield added. 
 
 " Yes, that 's the unfortunate part of it," said 
 the Whaup. 
 
 The little cashier looked mystified. 
 
 The Whimbrel laughed. " Don't mind him, 
 
 [101]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Stella, dear, that 's only a part of our short 
 hand talk. Of course you can't understand it. 
 But you '11 come with us and help us select the 
 furniture, won't you, dear ? You 're so very 
 practical minded, it will be a great help." 
 
 Stella laughed. " Yes, I 'm hopelessly com 
 monplace, I know, but it 's a good thing that 
 you blessed infants have some one with com 
 mon sense to take care of you." 
 
 They set about the matter immediately. 
 Miss Delafield soon discovered for them the 
 most amusing of little flats in Harlem, absurdly 
 cheap. The next week was spent in furnishing 
 it. Here the cashier's help was mysteriously 
 potent. While the Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 spun their fanciful romances together, she drew 
 the salesmen aside to whisper of materials and 
 construction and prices with the result of 
 obtaining the most extraordinary bargains. 
 Everything was lovely and perfect in the 
 Whimbrel's eyes, and charmingly appropriate 
 in the Whaup's. But they had to have their 
 Game, with it all, and played like children with 
 the purchases. 
 
 " There goes my trip to Lake Como," said 
 the Whimbrel mournfully, as the bedroom set 
 [ 102]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 was bought. Miss Delafield had said it was 
 stained birch, but it looked suspiciously like 
 real mahogany. 
 
 " That 's just about the price of a Mexican 
 saddle and bridle," said the Whaup, when the 
 dining-table was paid for. 
 
 " Of course you know it 's only machine- 
 carved," said Miss Delafield, and the salesman 
 turned his back to grin. 
 
 There was also a Persian rug, worth a week 
 on the Grand Canal, and a shaving-stand, for 
 which the Whaup sacrificed a journey to the 
 Grand Canon of the Colorado. The leaning 
 tower of Pisa was represented by a cheval-glass, 
 Pike's Peak by a copper lamp. So they sped 
 through those vast halls of furniture, from 
 Lombardy to the Devil's Gulch, as on a magic 
 carpet, leaving the poor, matter-of-fact little 
 cashier to trot along smilingly behind. 
 
 It was a ridiculous honeymoon. Three days 
 at Coney Island might seem tawdry enough 
 to any one except the Whaup and the Whim 
 brel, even though it were spent with an elephant 
 trainer's wife. But to this childlike bridal pair 
 the little holiday abounded in the miracles 
 
 C I0 3]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 of the commonplace. They wondered all 
 day long. 
 
 Before they returned, to begin the proud pro 
 prietorship of a home, to the Whaup came the 
 Whimbrel, and inserted an affectionate forefin 
 ger into the buttonhole of his coat. 
 
 " Dear old Whaup," she said, " don't you 
 think it would be nice to have Stella out to 
 dinner with us the first time we eat in the 
 flat ? She 's such a poor, lonely little thing ; 
 she does n't know hardly anybody or have any 
 where to go, she 's so poor, and she has n't 
 even got It to comfort her ! " 
 
 "All right," the Whaup agreed ; " I '11 tele 
 graph to her to come out to-morrow." 
 
 " Be sure you don't by any accident make the 
 message exactly ten words long," said the Whim 
 brel. " She 's such a conventional, unimagina 
 tive child that it 's always fun to shock her. 
 And eleven words in a telegram does seem 
 terribly extravagant, and it only costs three 
 cents more." 
 
 At the little flat in Harlem a surprise awaited 
 the Whaup and the Whimbrel a surprise so 
 magically magnificent, so overpoweringly won 
 derful, that they looked at each other almost
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 with fear and spoke in whispers. Upon a bu 
 reau (in the Lake of Como) was an envelope 
 addressed to Mr. and Mrs. John Gow. 
 
 Inside were ten one hundred dollar bills. 
 
 " What shall we do ? What does it mean ! 
 Who sent it ? " cried the Whimbrel. 
 
 The Whaup smiled and slapped the money 
 loftily in fine equanimity, rising superbly to the 
 situation. " What shall we do ? We '11 prove 
 that we 're worthy of it by taking it and spend 
 ing it, without embarrassment or question ! 
 Listen here, dear, is n't this just exactly what 
 we 'd do, if we were rich ? There 's nothing 
 really surprising about it, is there ? Some one 
 who knows us understands ; that 's all ! Some 
 one is playing the Game as we would play it if 
 we could ! " 
 
 " Yes, somebody 's got It ! " said the Whim 
 brel, "but I wonder who it can be ! " 
 
 The dinner was all ready when the cashier 
 came, and after they had gone to " Arizona," as 
 the Whaup called their tiny dining-room, it was 
 the Whimbrel's conceit to wait upon the two 
 together, as she had so often waited upon them 
 separately, in the downtown dairy. For a while 
 the Whaup suffered her to play out the game ; 
 
 [105]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 then, asserting his new authority, he charged into 
 the toy kitchen and brought his wife back by 
 force. As they sat over their coffee, he disclosed 
 their wonderful good fortune to Miss Delafield. 
 
 " Is n't it lovely ! How are you going to 
 spend it ? " she asked. Then she turned to the 
 wife. " I suppose you '11 take the first boat to 
 Italy, won't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no! " said the Whimbrel. 
 
 " You 're going West first, then," said the 
 cashier, turning to the husband. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said the Whaup. 
 
 "The fact is," the Whimbrel sighed, "we 
 don't want to travel, after all not for a while 
 at least. We 're really tired of travel, and we 've 
 found something so much better right here 
 better than Italy, better than Colorado, isn't 
 it, dear ? " 
 
 " You bet it is ! " cried the Whaup. 
 
 They had looked deep into each other's eyes, 
 as they spoke, and when at last their glance 
 was freed from that loving exchange, they saw 
 that Miss Delafield's mouth was trembling. 
 
 The Whimbrel sprang up and put her arm 
 about the cashier's neck, kissing her on the 
 cheek. 
 
 [106]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 "Oh, you poor, dear thing!" she whispered. 
 " Is n't it selfish of us to be so happy ! I wish 
 we could make you as happy as we are ! " 
 
 Miss Delafield's smile came back suddenly, 
 with a flash that relieved the Whaup's pertur 
 bation. She returned the Whimbrel's kiss, but 
 did not let go the hand that nestled in her own. 
 
 " I 'm so glad you 're happy," she said. " I 
 was sorry only because I was afraid I might n't 
 see you any more. I Ve given up my position 
 at Deacon Brothers, and I am thinking of leav 
 ing town." 
 
 The Whimbrel looked at her for a moment 
 in silence, then, releasing herself, ran out of the 
 room. She returned to press a folded bank 
 note into Miss Delafield's hand. 
 
 " You must take this, and use it for your va 
 cation. We both want you to, don't we, Whaup ? 
 It would make us unhappy if you did n't 
 would n't it, Whaup ? You need a good long 
 rest." 
 
 Miss Delafield kept the bill and smiled. She 
 tried to speak, but it seemed impossible. 
 
 Then the Whaup cleared his throat; his 
 Adam's apple rose and fell. "There's some 
 thing I wanted to tell you, Miss Delafield," he
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 began solemnly. "Do let me say it now. I 'm 
 sure you M be much happier if you did n't take 
 things quite so seriously. You ought to try to 
 get your mind out of your matter-of-fact daily, 
 commonplace routine, sometimes. Life is n't 
 half so stupid as it looks ; if you only look for 
 romance, you '11 find it ! Just because you have 
 to earn your living in a humdrum business, sur 
 rounded by common people and dollars and 
 hardware, you need n't make life all prose ; if 
 you used your imagination even, all that might 
 be interesting. If you could only play with 
 your world as we play with ours, and some 
 times get outside of it, you 'd find it loads of 
 fun!" 
 
 Miss Delafield shook her head plaintively. 
 "You know I have no imagination. But I '11 
 try!" 
 
 " I wish I could teach you to play the Game," 
 said the Whimbrel, " but I guess you have to 
 be born with it." 
 
 Miss Delafield bade them a cheerful good 
 night, insisting that the Whaup should not see 
 her even to her car. Then, after their visitor 
 had gone, the little Whimbrel climbed into her 
 husband's lap and put her two red lips to his ear. 
 [108]
 
 The Whaup and the Whimbrel 
 
 " Do you know why I 'm so fond of Stella, 
 dear ? Do you know why I wanted her here 
 to-night ? " she whispered. 
 
 The Whaup shook his head as well as he 
 could, in the circumstances, for there were two 
 arms about his neck. 
 
 " It 's because I think she 's in love with you, 
 
 you dear old Whaup ! I was so sorry for her 
 
 not the least bit jealous, of course, for she 
 
 has n't got It, has she ? Not the least little 
 
 bit ! " 
 
 " No, I 'm sorry for her too if she could 
 only play the Game ! " 
 
 He walked to the window and looked out. 
 
 " Look at that carriage driving away ! " he 
 exclaimed suddenly. "It must have been wait 
 ing at one of these houses. I wonder if it's 
 a brougham ! I was never quite sure what a 
 brougham was." Then his voice grew melo 
 dramatic. 
 
 "In that brougham, dear, I 'm sure it 's a 
 brougham, perhaps there is a wonderfully 
 rich young girl, beautiful, and full of spirit, 
 going out on some thrilling adventure ! " 
 
 " Perhaps she 's coming back from one," sug 
 gested the Whimbrel.
 
 IV 
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 MISS MILLION was always fond of 
 East Twenty-Third Street, the busy, 
 agitated link between the East and 
 West Sides. She picked out No. in, an old-fash 
 ioned three-story bouse, back from the street, long 
 before she knew precisely how, in her scheme of 
 adventure, to make use of it. 
 
 A sight, one day, of the maiden lady, Miss 
 Henrietta Hooper, seated, embroidering, at the 
 upper window, bad fixed Miss Million's attention, 
 and seeing the same queer original figure always on 
 the lookout, during subsequent weeks, Miss Mil 
 lion decided to make, in some way, her acquaintance. 
 It did not take long to arrive at a plan. 
 
 She took several lessons from a manicure, and 
 this story tells the rest. 
 
 Miss Million still, of course, occupied her apart 
 ments in East Fifty-Eighth Street, and I was kept 
 busy enough, you may imagine, shopping for her, 
 for Miss Hooper s benefit. 
 
 [in]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 / myself^ diverted by my patroness's stories, 
 made the acquaintance of Captain Eildad, and did 
 not a little, behind the scenes ', to encourage him in 
 his love affair. It was my rare pleasure to stuff 
 his pocket^ that day, at Miss Million's request, 
 and subsequently to stand in the Little Church 
 Around the Corner, as best man, with this eccen 
 tric pair.
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 BUSINESS was not very brisk at Miss 
 Mary Mott's Manicure Parlors, at No. 
 1 1 1 East Twenty-Third Street. It had 
 not as yet been worth Miss Mott's while to 
 engage the services of an assistant. Her parlors 
 were fitted up with a quiet, tasteful elegance 
 uncommon in such places. Her instruments 
 were of ivory and gold, her perfumes, polishes, 
 and powders were all imported. Her chairs, 
 tables, and screens were of an expensive sim 
 plicity. 
 
 Miss Mott herself, ladylike, smartly dressed, 
 petite, gracile, and graceful, had personality, and 
 something of that distinction and attractiveness 
 that full-length portraits show. Her small head 
 was poised aristocratically upon a slender, well- 
 formed neck. Her hands were small, delicate, 
 and clever, strongly expressive in their light, 
 fairy-like gestures. Her quick smile registered 
 all shades of mirth, from glee to that quiet 
 humor which lies nearest pathos. She was only 
 
 ["3]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 twenty-three, full of a fine, urgent joy of youth, 
 spirited, proud, sympathetic in every tone of 
 her musical voice. 
 
 As she stood, one morning, at the long front 
 windows of her parlors on the first floor, she 
 heard behind her some one coughing with an 
 old-fashioned affectation. She turned to see a 
 woman, who, but for the girlish elasticity of 
 her carriage and the freshness of her com 
 plexion, would be called a typical " old maid." 
 She was, at all events, indubitably a spinster 
 of forty-odd years, with twinkling eyes, and a 
 heavy mass of grayish hair, held in place by 
 a complicated system of interweavings, rather 
 than by hairpins. She had a general air of 
 eccentricity that was specialized, perhaps, only 
 in her basque, which was fastened down the 
 front with a close row of small metal buttons. 
 At the appearance of this visitor, Miss Mott 
 smiled a frank welcome. 
 
 " I calculated it was about time to drop in 
 and see you, Miss Mott, bein' as we 're neigh 
 bors under the same roof. Henrietta Hooper 's 
 my name," said the caller. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so glad to see you ! " said Miss 
 Mott. " You 're the lady who does the wonder- 
 ["4]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 ful linen embroidery, on the top floor, are n't 
 you?" 
 
 "Well, I must say I prefer to be known 
 by other things than that ! " said Henrietta 
 Hooper spicily. " I 'm a human bein', same 
 as the rest, I expect, and I always expect to be 
 treated as such. But I ain't got no call to com 
 plain ; I make a livin', and if you Ve got ta 
 work, you Ve got to be branded by it, I s'pose. 
 But land ! how slick you Ve got it fixed up 
 here ! Them tablecloths of yourn must have 
 cost you a sight of money ! Business good ? I 
 expect you have your streaks of fat and lean 
 like the rest of us. I never was in a man-i-cure 
 place before looks some like a barber shop, 
 don't it? What's all them little jiggers for, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 " Do let me show you, Miss Hooper. I 'd 
 love to explain it all, and you have such beau 
 tiful hands, it will give me a great deal of plea 
 sure to do your nails." 
 
 " I don't know but what I will," said Miss 
 Hooper. " It won't do me no harm to rest a 
 little while, and it '11 give us a chance to have 
 a dish of conversation. I go as crazy as a cat 
 when I can't talk. I do hope you 're goin' to be 
 
 ["5]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 real neighborly. There ain't been a woman in 
 this house since the two Cubans left, and that 
 artist on the second floor is so pernickerty I 
 hate to speak to him." 
 
 Miss Mott sat down at the table in front 
 of her guest, and began to soak and scrape and 
 pare and snip and file and wipe and rub and pol 
 ish, asking a question, now and then, to draw 
 Miss Hooper out. It was not difficult. The 
 spinster watched the process, losing no detail, 
 making many humorous comments upon the 
 work. 
 
 " It seems kind of dark and dull down here," 
 she said. " Now I do admire a top floor, where 
 you can see what 's goin' on. I spend most of 
 my time at the window, and I 've got to know 
 everybody on the block, and I Ve given 'em 
 my own names. I don't s'pose I know more 'n 
 six people in New York to speak to, but I like 
 to pretend I recognize every one that comes by. 
 The forewoman at the shop where I sell my 
 embroideries thinks I 'm cracked because I like 
 to dress up in my best whether I see anybody 
 or not. You ought to see a nightgown I made 
 it's lovely! I only wear it once a month 
 and on Sundays and holidays, but it 's a great 
 [116]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 comfort to have something nice, even if it ain't 
 seen, don't you think so? They might be a 
 fire or something but, Lord ! I suppose I 'd 
 have on an old one, if it did come ! I do ad 
 mire linen sheets, too, and I 'm savin' up to get 
 me a pair. It 's the little things that count in a 
 woman's life ; I can do without the big ones 
 well enough. I never had a piece of real lace 
 in my life, but some time I 'm goin' to buy a 
 handkerchief that is a handkerchief. Perhaps 
 I may accidentally drop it somewheres, and 
 who knows but it '11 be noticed ? Lord, if you 
 knew how I hated cotton ! It seems a sin to 
 spend money for things that are too good to 
 use, but it 's a heap of satisfaction to know that 
 something 's right, even if it 's only seen by the 
 washwoman ! " 
 
 " I s'pose you must have wondered some at 
 seem' me get so many letters reg'lar," she said 
 at last, tentatively. 
 
 "Why, yes," Miss Mott replied, adding pink 
 to Henrietta's nails, " I Ve noticed them every 
 morning on the hall stand." 
 
 " I do get considerable mail," said Hen 
 rietta, with a self-satisfied smile. " They pes 
 ter me sometimes, but it's company for me, 
 
 ["7]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 too, I 'm alone so much ; I don't see many 
 folks." 
 
 " They seem to be mostly addressed in a 
 man's handwriting," Miss Mott ventured, see 
 ing that her friend was waxing confidential. 
 
 " My dear," cried Henrietta, with a burst of 
 apparently long pent-up feeling, " the way that 
 man is persecutin' me would make your hair 
 stand on end! If you only knew ! It's been 
 goin' on for some time now, and I can't per 
 suade him to let me alone, no way in the world ! 
 Where it '11 end, I don't know, nor can I ima- 
 gine!" 
 
 " You poor thing ! " said Miss Mott. " I 'd 
 never think you had an enemy in the world ! " 
 
 Henrietta Hooper dropped her voice to a 
 whisper. " Enemy ? Why, he 's dead in love 
 with me, Miss Mott, believe it or not, as you 
 see fit. He 's simply crazy about me did you 
 ever? He's so violent, sometimes, I 've been 
 afraid I 'd have to have him arrested and locked 
 up. But somehow I can't help pityin' him, and 
 you know it does flatter a woman to have a man 
 take on about her. If you could just hear one 
 of his letters, you 'd throw a fit ! " 
 
 " Oh, do let me see one ! " Miss Mott begged 
 [118]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 shamelessly, taking the cue. " I Ve always 
 wanted to hear a really good love-letter men 
 are usually so silly about it." 
 
 " I don't know as I ought to," Henrietta 
 said, pursing her red lips, " but seein' as I 've 
 never laid eyes on the man, I don't know why 
 I 'm bound to keep his confidence." 
 
 " You Ve never seen him ? Why, how does 
 he know you, then ? " Miss Mott exclaimed. 
 
 Henrietta replied coyly. " Why, it seems 
 he 's seen me workin' in my window. You know 
 I sit there mostly, and he was smitten, so he 
 says ; though you can't never believe a man's 
 word. Anyway, he found out my name some 
 how. I 'm scared to death for fear he '11 come 
 blunderin' in, some day, and want to see me, 
 and insist on my marryin' him on the spot. 
 Imagine ! I '11 just read you a little, to show 
 you what a born fool the critter is." 
 
 She drew a sheet of folded commercial note- 
 paper from her basque and began to read aloud : 
 
 " f My heart is a hurricane of thwarted pas 
 sion and wild yearning, and unless you consent 
 to be mine, all hell cannot keep me from you.' 
 . . . H'm! Well, I '11 skip this, it's all about 
 my eyes, 'orbs,' he calls 'em a lot be knows; 
 
 ["9]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 then there 's a mess of poppy-cock about * fairy 
 fingers, fanciful and fine.' . . . Oh, yes, here it 
 is ... 'Woman, wildly as I adore you, wor 
 ship you, I cannot longer wait, weary and 
 wretched in my woe ! Rather shall I stab you 
 to the heart and turn the same knife upon 
 myself, than see your charms reveled in by 
 another.' . . . What d' you think of that I 
 Ain't it awful?" 
 
 " My ! It is exciting," said the manicure. 
 " Nobody ever loved me like that ! " 
 
 " Oh, they may, by the time you get to be 
 my age," said Henrietta complacently. " But 
 it 's terrible to be loved like that, though ! I 
 don't know what I 'm a-goin' to do. Mortimer 
 Elphinstone, his name is genteel, ain't it? 
 Imagine me as Mrs. Elphinstone ! I guess not 
 much ! " 
 
 She arose, and examined her finger-nails with 
 pride. " They do look elegant, don't they ? 
 I had no idea they could be made to look so 
 pretty. But you must let me pay you ! " 
 
 " Oh, you 've more than paid me already," 
 said Miss Mott. " If you '11 only drop in often 
 and tell me how your love affair is going on, 
 I '11 call it square." 
 [120]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 " I will. I 'm so glad to have some one to 
 talk to about it, but I hope you won't think 
 I 'm silly," said Henrietta Hooper, as she went 
 upstairs. 
 
 Miss Mott sat down to her desk telephone and 
 rang up for a sprightly, excited conversation with 
 some one whom she addressed as Mr. Rayne. 
 
 Henrietta Hooper came bustling into the 
 manicure parlors the next morning, in high 
 feather. "What d' you think! " she announced. 
 "If this don't beat the Dutch ! Just you look 
 at what came for me this morning, from Heaven 
 knows who ! " 
 
 She opened a pretty pasteboard box and ex 
 hibited her gift. It was a delicate blue Liberty 
 silk peignoir, embroidered in odd, elaborate pat 
 terns, of a spider-web fineness, and exquisitely 
 fagoted along the seams. 
 
 " I '11 bet that cost forty dollars, if it cost 
 a cent ! I 'd like to know who was fool enough 
 to send it to an old maid like me. Why, it 's 
 fit for a wedding outfit ! But it '11 be lovely to 
 put on when I sit in the window ! " 
 
 "Why, it's from Mr. Elphinstone, isn't 
 it?" Miss Mott asked. 
 
 [121]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " Mortimer Elphinstone ? Not he ! He 's 
 as poor as Job's cat. Why, he wrote me only 
 t' other day that he was * rich only in the royal 
 wealth of his lurid love of you, but therein a 
 rival of dukes and emperors.' Or, leastways, 
 that 's as near as I can recall his nonsense. No, 
 siree, Bob ! It 's from somebody that has sense 
 enough to know that actions speak louder than 
 words. There 's two of 'em after me now 
 ain't it ridiculous ? " 
 
 The next morning she appeared, wildly ex 
 cited, with another tribute from her mysterious 
 admirer, this time a pair of white velvet, fur- 
 trimmed bedroom slippers. On the third day a 
 little trunk filled with cut-glass bottles of French 
 perfumes appeared, and Henrietta Hooper's 
 wonder grew. 
 
 Every day after that a new present appeared, 
 and the collection now began to transform her 
 dingy bedroom into the aspect of something 
 like the boudoir of a mondame^ without any clue 
 appearing to solve the secret of its origin. A 
 dozen silk stockings of various soft colors was 
 followed by silk scarves, bathrobes, and soft 
 Turkish towels. Then came cases of expensive 
 stationery, embossed with a quaint monogram, 
 [ 122]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 a fleecy feather boa, a bunch of beautiful shaded 
 green ostrich plumes, white kid gloves by the 
 dozen, Duchesse lace handkerchiefs by the box, 
 huge bunches of violets, tins of chocolates and 
 marrons g!aces y veils, orchids, and lingerie a 
 succession of wonderful, extravagant luxuries 
 heretofore unthought of by the modest, hard 
 working spinster, but each gift a delight to her 
 imaginative, romantic soul. 
 
 For a while her surprise exhausted her. She 
 lost herself in a thousand speculations, invent 
 ing theories that included as hero every man 
 she had ever seen or heard of. She found no 
 explanation of her good fortune too wild to 
 consider seriously with the manicure, as she 
 came, day after day, to exhibit her marvelous 
 gifts. Finally, she gave up the problem, as one 
 gives up the miracles of a prestidigitateur. Her 
 gifts appeared out of Nowhere, as if drawn, by 
 weird conjury, from some invisible magic hat. 
 
 While this was going on, Miss Mott had 
 another visitor. He was a big, burly, bearded 
 stranger, dressed in a blue double-breasted 
 reefer, loud of speech and laughter, awkward 
 and jovial. He stuck his head in the door- 
 
 I:"!]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 way one afternoon and looked smilingly into 
 the room. Then, pulling off his derby hat, he 
 entered, as if wading through water up to his 
 knees. 
 
 " How de do ? " he said sheepishly. 
 
 Miss Mott returned his greeting with a gay 
 <c Good afternoon," and awaited his next re 
 mark. 
 
 " I just come in to see what this joint was 
 like," he explained, twirling his hat in his 
 hands. " I thought maybe I 'd try a shot 
 myself, if it did n't cost too much." 
 
 " Would you like to be manicured ? " she 
 asked, getting a table ready and turning on an 
 electric light over it. 
 
 " Say, what 's the little game anyway ? Does 
 it hurt ? " he inquired, looking at the knives 
 and scissors suspiciously. 
 
 Miss Mott smiled, and it seemed to reassure 
 him. 
 
 "The fact is," he went on, eyeing her prepa 
 rations, " I see your sign in the window, and it 
 was a new one on me, so I asked a cop what 
 was a manicure, and he tips me a wink and says, 
 ' It 's a place where a pretty girl holds your hands 
 while you jolly her.' 'That's about my size,'
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 says I, so in I come ! But I guess I made a 
 mistake, probably, and I beg your pardon, 
 miss. Don't take it ill of me but I expect 
 I 'd better steam out." 
 
 " Oh, no, you 'd better stay, now you 've 
 come," said Miss Mott pleasantly. " Let me 
 see your fingers." 
 
 He held to her, without embarrassment, a 
 pair of hands whose stumpy fingers were 
 stained with tar, pitch, and dirt, and seared with 
 scars. His nails were indescribable. Miss Mott 
 laughed. 
 
 " I '11 do what I can with them," she said, 
 " but you '11 have to come in several times, 
 I 'm afraid, before I can make them look very 
 well." 
 
 He laughed so jocundly as to shake the 
 chandelier while she placed the ends of his fin 
 gers in the bowl of lemon water. Then he 
 leaned his elbows on the table and proceeded 
 to enjoy the situation. 
 
 " I s'pose these here dudes come in here to 
 be scraped up and holystoned quite often, 
 don't they ? " he remarked. " I don't know 
 as I mind being overhauled myself, once in a 
 while, now I 'm onto the game. But I never 
 
 [125]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 washed my hands in lemonade before. Beats 
 soft-soap all to pieces, don't it ! " 
 
 " So you 're a sailor ? " said the manicure. 
 
 " Tug f Emmy Lou/ laid up for repairs, at 
 present," he answered. " Say, if you ever want 
 to take a trip down the harbor, come down to 
 Pier 467 and ask for Cap'm Bildad Cushman, 
 and I '11 show you blue water. Let you take a 
 trick at the wheel, too." 
 
 The manicure's task was well-nigh hopeless, 
 but at length she had finished her beginning 
 " polishing the brasswork," he called it. As 
 she came to an end, he remarked in an embar 
 rassed tone : 
 
 " I say, miss, does there happen to be a lady 
 living here by the name of Hooper ? I 've been 
 rooming over to the starboard side of the street, 
 abaft here, and I Ve seen somebody going in 
 and coming out occasionally that looks power 
 fully like a girl I used to know in New Bed 
 ford, when I was a boy." 
 
 " Why, yes, Miss Henrietta Hooper she 's 
 a great friend of mine," said the manicure. 
 
 " Well, don't that beat all ! " he exclaimed. 
 " I used to know Henny Hooper when she 
 was the worst out-and-out tomboy on Buz- 
 [126]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 zard's Bay ! She was a queer one, all the time 
 up to some monkey-trick or other. Full of the 
 devil. I expect she 's sobered down, though, 
 by this time. I see she has gray hair. I 'd like 
 to hail her ! " 
 
 " Why don't you go up and call on her ? " 
 asked Miss Mott. " She lives on the top 
 floor, front, and I 'm sure she '11 be glad to see 
 an old friend. Do go up and speak to her, and 
 then come back and tell me all about it, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I will, by Jupiter ! " he vociferated, and 
 laughed a hearty laugh. Within five minutes 
 he was stumbling up the stairway. 
 
 Now, Miss Henrietta Hooper lived in a 
 front alcoved room on the third floor; and as 
 the other lodgers were away from home all 
 day, she usually left her door wide open. The 
 captain, therefore, upon arriving at the upper 
 landing, had a view of the spinster and her 
 apartment before she was aware of his visit. 
 He stood for several moments, transfixed with 
 admiration, before announcing his presence. 
 
 She was seated by the window, dressed in a 
 long, delicately, softly clinging blue silk peignoir, 
 elegantly trimmed with lace. She had a red
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 rose stuck coquettishly in her hair, the sister to 
 those filling a bowl upon the table. About her 
 shoulders was thrown a Liberty silk scarf, dotted 
 with Dresden roses. Her careless pose per 
 mitted a discreet vision of green silk stockings 
 and a pair of dainty, fur- trimmed white velvet 
 slippers. The picture was completed by an 
 Angora cat, the latest of Miss Hooper's gifts, 
 which leaped in gay abandon upon the floor. 
 
 So much, Miss Mott, tiptoeing after Captain 
 Bildad, saw from behind his back. Then she 
 discreetly retired, to await his report in her par 
 lors below. 
 
 He came back, roaring jubilantly, " I done 
 it, and she 's the self-same one I used to hook 
 Jack with from the brick schoolhouse ! Say, 
 she 's high and mighty now, though, ain't she ! 
 She 's full-rigged and ship-shape, she is ! Gosh ! 
 I was almost afraid to brace her, with her silks 
 and satins and her doo-dads and what-you-call- 
 'em's, all over cologne and truck. But I got 
 over that ! We got on fine ! " He stopped to 
 bellow. 
 
 " Say, miss, she 's got a fellow did you 
 know that ? Sure ! She told me all about it, 
 and showed me some letters that read like a 
 [128]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 page out of a dime novel ! Think of Henny 
 Hooper being made love to by a crazy man 
 like that ! And she likes it I '11 be keel 
 hauled if she don't ! But pshaw ! I got a game 
 worth ten of that big talk. There 's others that 
 are after Hen Hooper and can make good all 
 right, you bet ! I reckon she won't throw down 
 a man what 's been sending her a new present 
 every day for a fortnight ! " 
 
 " Oh, you 're the one, then ! " cried Miss 
 Mott, almost exploding with laughter. " I 'm 
 glad to know where they 've been coming from." 
 
 " I 'm the mysterious stranger," he thundered, 
 and burst his sides with the convulsions of 
 his mirth. " I 'm going for to give that Mor 
 timer Elphingstone a run for bis money; you 
 wait ! If I can't put up a game to beat a lubber 
 like that, I 'm a dub at the game which is a sail 
 or's pride and joy. Any man that can handle 
 a wheel can handle a woman, my dad used to 
 say." 
 
 " So you 're really in love with Henrietta ? " 
 Miss Mott asked. 
 
 " If she 's good enough for Mortimer El 
 phingstone, she 's good enough for me, miss ! 
 When I first sighted her, I says to myself, says 
 
 [129]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 I, ' It 's time to heave your anchor, cap'n ; 
 your time has came ! ' And have her I will. 
 She 'd make a first-rate mate. Yes, I 'm for 
 her ! And she 's answered my signals already." 
 
 " I 'm with you ! " said the manicure. " I 
 never did like that Mr. Elphinstone, and I '11 
 help you all I can." 
 
 " Say, will you stand by me, sure ? " he asked, 
 grinning. " If you pass me a cable, you can 
 tow me into an anchorage easy ! She '11 be 
 Mrs. Cap'm Bildad Cushman before she 's a 
 year older, or I '11 go back to whaling again. 
 Well, farewell. I 'm a-going to clap on all sail 
 and run her down ! " 
 
 He called daily after that, and usually, com 
 ing down from upstairs, dropped in upon his 
 new friend and ally, the manicure, to report 
 progress. Miss Hooper, it appeared from his 
 accounts, was uncertain, coy, and hard to please. 
 She held Mortimer Elphinstone over the cap 
 tain's head, and persisted in reading her per- 
 fervid lover's missives to the scornful seaman. 
 The captain fumed, and pleaded his suit with 
 gentle persistence, but made slow progress. 
 Her appreciation of the presents, however, was 
 cordial. 
 [
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 Miss Hooper, coming down occasionally to 
 be manicured and to gossip, gave her version 
 of the affair as follows : 
 
 "He ain't at all what I 'd call an ardent 
 wooer, Miss Mott; he 's a little bit too meek 
 and mild, sometimes, and he will call me * Miss 
 Henny'! He 's a gentle soul, and I like him, 
 but I do believe he's afraid of me. Now Mor 
 timer Elphinstone, he 's the sassy kind ; he 's 
 as bold as the bulls of Bashan ! My, he 'd 
 think no more of knocking me down, I s'pose, 
 if he once got his dander up, than he would 
 of giving me a kiss ! I must say there 's a sort 
 of fascination about a masterful man, somehow, 
 though I can't bear real brutality. The cap'm 
 does make love beautiful, but somehow they 
 ain't no ginger to it. I suppose I am a fool, 
 but I do love to see a man get mad, once in a 
 while. Mr. Elphinstone 's gettin' terrible jeal 
 ous, Miss Mott, and I 'm mortal afraid there '11 
 be some trouble if he ever encounters Cap'm 
 Bildad." 
 
 " Say, you must be doin' well, Miss Mott," 
 she added. " I see you comin' and goin' in a 
 carriage several times lately." 
 
 " Oh, I go out to my customers they send 
 
 ['3']
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 down their carriages, that's all," Miss Mott 
 explained. 
 
 " I don't see many customers comin' in here," 
 Miss Hooper continued. " It beats me to see 
 how you make a livin' doin' finger-nails." 
 
 " I have a lot of fun out of it, anyway," said 
 the manicure. 
 
 The captain's course of true love that day 
 ran upon an uncharted reef. He appeared in 
 great distress to ask Miss Mott's advice. 
 
 " What d' you think ? " he demanded. 
 " Henny 's all down in the mouth and flying 
 signals of distress because she ain't received a 
 present for three days ! Ain't that ungrateful 
 of her ? She 's got so used to 'em, she 's spoiled. 
 I s'pose I '11 have to humor her. What 's a good 
 thing to get for a lady, anyway ? " 
 
 " Well, I believe Henrietta's toilet articles 
 are n't very swell. Why don't you get a nice, 
 pretty brush and comb ? " Miss Mott sug 
 gested. 
 
 " That 's fine. I '11 do it ! " said the captain, 
 and departed on the quest. 
 
 Henrietta Hooper showed Miss Mott the 
 result next morning. She entered the manicure 
 [ 13*]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 parlor with an expression halfway between scorn 
 and mirth, laying an object upon the table with 
 out comment. 
 
 It was a box, the exterior of which, so far as 
 velvet, satin, and stamped aluminum could make 
 it, was like a heavy tome. Across its back was 
 printed in gold script the title, " History of 
 Rome." Opening the tiny, ineffectual clasp, 
 Miss Mott beheld, lying in state, as if in a pink 
 silk-padded casket, a yellow brush and a yellow 
 celluloid comb. They were elaborately mottled 
 to resemble onyx, or maybe chalcedony 
 something, at least, which they obviously were 
 not and could not be, nor should be, if they 
 could. Across the broad blue ribbon which 
 bound them in was painted, in floriated letters, 
 the words " For Remembrance." 
 
 " How could he ! How could he ! " Henri 
 etta moaned. 
 
 Miss Mott stared, overcome with a mirth, 
 too great for expression. " Oh, captain, my 
 captain ! " she repeated, when she was able to 
 speak. 
 
 "What can I do?" said Henrietta. "I can't 
 say I like it, can I ? And I can't say what I do 
 think about it ! I don't see how he should have
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 got this thing, after all the lovely presents he 
 has given me just exactly the things I wanted 
 the things a woman would buy ! They were 
 all so lovely ! But this contraption would scare 
 Old Nick himself! " 
 
 " I 'm sure Mortimer Elphinstone would 
 have had better taste," said Miss Mott. 
 
 " Indeed he would ! He 's always been so 
 refined and elegant, whatever threats he has 
 made I '11 say that for him ! " 
 
 " It may be a mistake. You *d better wait 
 till you 're sure," was Miss Mott's advice. 
 
 But it was no mistake. The unhappy cap 
 tain went from the frying-pan into the fire. 
 His next attempt was a lamp such a lamp as 
 many a bride has blushed for and wept over. 
 This met with a cool reception from Henrietta 
 Hooper, who eyed him severely now when he 
 called. He tried again wildly to retrieve his 
 unconscious blunders, and beguiled by the ad 
 vice of some friendly bookseller's clerk, sent 
 his inamorata a volume of " The Wit and 
 Humor of the Middle Ages," bound in half 
 calf. Even this refined offering failed to please. 
 
 He complained bitterly to Miss Mott of his 
 ill success. " I 'm going to chuck it up ! " he
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 thundered. " If she don't like what I get, she 
 can throw it overboard ! Here I Ve lost all the 
 headway I 've made, and thirty dollars besides ! 
 Just as I was making up my mind to settle 
 down, too ! She can go and take that Elphing- 
 stone man she 's all the time throwing up at 
 me. No, by Gripes, I '11 have her ! I Ve just 
 got to have Henny, Miss Mott ! Can't you 
 throw me a line and help me out ? " 
 
 " I could show you how in two minutes, but 
 you 'd never do it." 
 
 " Why would n't I ? Don't I think the 
 world of Henny? I 'd do anything crawl 
 on my hands and knees, lick her boots any 
 thing ! " 
 
 " But that 's just exactly what you must n't 
 do ! You see, captain, the trouble is, you 've 
 been a little too gentle. You 've been afraid 
 of her. What she wants is to be bullied and 
 ordered about and frightened half to death. 
 Can you do that ? " 
 
 Captain Bildad chuckled till his sides shook 
 in spasms. " Can I do it ? Can I do it ? Me, 
 Cap'm Bildad Cushman of the f Emmy Lou ' ? 
 Come down to the water-front and ask my mate ! 
 Ask in any sailor boarding-house ! Of course I
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 ain't exactly used to treating women-folks that 
 way, but if that 's all she wants, by the Lord 
 Harry, / '// frighten her ! Let me loose ! I '11 
 go up now, and try it ! " 
 
 He raged upstairs as if fighting back muti 
 neers, and was gone for half an hour. He 
 returned to report, with gusts of laughter. 
 
 " I believe you 're more 'n half right, miss, 
 after all. I guess I give her the right medicine 
 this time. It made me feel some like a scoun 
 drel, for I ain't never give a woman a hard word 
 in my life before, but she stood for it. Women 
 certainly is queer craft ! She begun on her El- 
 phingstone game again, and I told her that if I 
 ever met him, I 'd pound him into strawberry 
 jam and chuck him out of the window and her 
 with him. Why don't he show up, anyway? 
 that 's what I asked her ; why don't he come 
 for her like a man ? If he does, I '11 show him 
 how and why and when and where and whom 
 soever and all he wants to know about it. Ho, 
 ho ! Ha, ha ! " and the captain roared again. 
 
 After he had left, Miss Hooper herself crept 
 downstairs, white and trembling, to fall into Miss 
 Mott's arms. " My dear," she wept, " I don't 
 know what I 'm comin' to, with two such violent
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 men ! It was bad enough for Mr. Elphinstone 
 threatenin' me with his wild letters, but I tell 
 you Cap'm Bildad is somethin' awful! I be 
 lieve I 'm in danger of my life ! Why, he 's a 
 perfect brute ! And he 's always been so nice 
 and respectful ! I s'pose there ain't no accountin' 
 for what a man will do when he 's in love. Bil 
 dad 's got an ugly streak in him that I never 
 suspected at all. You should have seen the way 
 he stormed round ! and, my dear, he used words 
 no gentleman should permit a lady to hear 
 least of all the woman he loves. He smashed 
 two chairs, and shook his fist in my face, and 
 actually demanded to see my last letter from 
 Mortimer ! " 
 
 " Did you show it to him ? " asked the mani 
 cure. 
 
 "Why yes to tell the truth, I did it 
 before I thought, I was that scared. But then 
 you know, dear, the cap'm is really an old friend, 
 and he is so fond of me I suppose I ought to 
 allow him a little leeway, considerin' how pas 
 sionate he is. He means all right, I expect, only 
 he 's naturally headstrong. It 's a good fault, I 
 must say." 
 
 She turned to go, then hesitated a moment. 
 
 [137]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " Say, Miss Mott, did you ever have a man 
 strike you in anger ? Any nice man, I mean 
 I ain't speakin' of common brutality." 
 
 " No, I certainly never did did you ? " 
 
 No I ain't ! " Then Henrietta added 
 dreamily, " But I should think it would be ter 
 rible excitin'." 
 
 The next day the captain called, to draw Miss 
 Mott towards him with a tragic whisper. 
 
 " Say, Miss Mott," he commenced, " when I 
 left this place yesterday, I had eight dollars in 
 my coat pocket. Did you know that ? " 
 
 " No, I did n't. Why ? Did you lose it ? " 
 
 " I went out and see a fire down towards 
 Third Avenue, and I stopped to look. There 
 was considerable of a crowd, and it was pretty 
 thick where I was wedged into it." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you had your 
 pocket picked ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, I don't. What I mean to say 
 is, I had my pocket stuffed, by jimminy ! What 
 d' you think of that ? When I got home, I found 
 a thousand and ten dollars in my pocket ! " 
 
 "It does n't often happen," said the mani 
 cure, smiling. 
 
 " No, it don't. But say," the captain con-
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 tinued, " you know that young fellow Rayne, I 
 see here so often, who comes to have his finger 
 nails overhauled ? Well, he went down the 
 street with me, and he was in the crowd beside 
 of me all the time. I wish you 'd ask him if he 
 was worked same as me ! " 
 
 " I think you deserved it most, captain," 
 said Miss Mott. " It will help you to get mar 
 ried, won't it ? " 
 
 "That 's just what I'm up to to-day! By 
 jimminy, I 'm going to go for Henny this very 
 day, and I won't come down without her ! I 'm 
 a rich man." 
 
 " If you want Henrietta, there 's only one 
 thing to do," said Miss Mott. 
 
 " Do you mean to say I got to strike her ? 
 My God, it 's awful ! Why, I could n't no 
 more touch her than I could take a mallet to 
 a sick baby. I 'd be ashamed of myself for a 
 thousand years. Would she ever forgive me ? " 
 he asked anxiously. 
 
 " I 'm afraid she would, if you do it right," 
 said Miss Mott. " If she refuses you, you '11 
 really have to use force." 
 
 The captain gloomed. " It ain't my way of 
 making love," he said sadly. "I 'm more for 
 
 [ J 39]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 kissing and caressing; but there 's no account 
 ing for tastes, and I '11 try to do my duty by 
 Henny. I wish it was that Elphingstone I was 
 a-goin' to thrash, though. Lord, think of me 
 hitting Hen Hooper, that I 'm in love with ! 
 But I '11 do it ! Perhaps I can manage without 
 really hurting her. Anyway, I 'm not a-coming 
 back alone." 
 
 He was gone a long time. It was twilight, 
 and Miss Mott was gazing out upon the snowy 
 street, the lights, the traffic, and the tide of 
 pedestrians setting toward the great East Side, 
 when the captain and Henrietta entered the 
 parlors, the lady a willing, smiling prisoner in 
 his strong right arm. 
 
 " I s'pose you '11 be surprised to see me act- 
 in* so silly at my time of life, Miss Mott," said 
 Henrietta, " especially after the way I Ve talked, 
 but the cap'm has persuaded me to become Mrs. 
 Cushman. I had no idea in the world of ever 
 gettin' married, but he was so sweet and lovely 
 that I just had to give in." 
 
 " I 'm so glad for you both," said the little 
 manicure. " Really, though, I 'm almost jeal 
 ous. I am half in love with the captain my 
 self. He 's such a dear, is n't he, Henrietta ? " 
 [140]
 
 The Murder of M. Elphinstone 
 
 " Is n't he ? He 's so sweet he 's a perfect 
 lamb ! " 
 
 " Never mind that ! " said the captain sternly, 
 avoiding Miss Mott's eye. 
 
 " And we '11 be so glad to have you here 
 with us, for we 're going to live upstairs and 
 take the whole top floor." 
 
 " I 'm sorry, but I 'm going to give up my 
 business. I 'm leaving to-morrow," said Miss 
 Mott. 
 
 " Well, now, that 's too bad ! I was afraid it 
 did n't pay very well, and that you had a dull 
 time of it," Miss Hooper said. " My dear, I 
 should think it would be stupid for you, here 
 on the ground floor. Now if you only had a 
 room where you had a view, you 'd see lots of 
 more things to interest you. Here, it 's so quiet 
 nothin' happens. Up where I am, I see every 
 thing, and I can take my mind off my work. 
 You 're quite out of the world. Who knows 
 but the captain would have been sendin' you 
 presents, instead of me, if you 'd been upstairs ! " 
 
 The captain began to cough, and his eye 
 roamed furtively about the room. 
 
 " Henny !" he said finally in a broken voice, 
 " I played you a dirty trick about them pre- 
 
 [HI]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 sents I never gave one of 'em except the 
 comb and brush and the lamp and the book ! 
 I have n't the least idea who sent 'em, but I 
 s'pose it was that darned fool Elphingstone." 
 
 At his first words Henrietta Hooper's eye 
 blazed in rage, then at the mention of her 
 mysterious lover, she melted. She threw her 
 arms about the captain's neck and wept. 
 
 " Oh, Bildad ! " she wailed, " I don't know 
 what you '11 ever think of me, but there ain't 
 any Mortimer Elphinstone, and there never 
 was, nor ever will be, so far as I know. I was 
 so lonesome before I knew you, that I just 
 wrote them letters to myself for the fun of it, 
 so as to pretend that somebody cared for me ! " 
 
 " You don't say so ! " the captain exclaimed. 
 " Well, I 'm glad he 's dead ; that saves me 
 one fight anyway." Then his face knotted in 
 a puzzled expression, and he turned to the 
 pretty manicure. " But I 'd like to know who 
 the devil did send them things would n't 
 you, Miss Mott ? " 
 
 Miss Mott said that she would, indeed.
 
 V 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 I HAD been much interested in Stone Dafs 
 work long before I first called Miss Million's 
 attention to bis illustrations. Artists with 
 any true decorative spirit and unconventional tech 
 nique are rare enough nowadays, when magazines 
 seek to set for a standard the photographic realities. 
 
 I think, however, it was in the hope for some 
 thing a bit more piquant than her other adven 
 tures, that she took up posing. Her knowledge 
 of art and artists was slight, and was associated 
 with the obvious Bohemias of so-called Latin 
 Quarter life. If, however, Miss Million went out 
 most commonly for Romance, she often came home 
 with something warmer and more human. Her 
 particular kind of "sentimental charity" seldom 
 missed fire. 
 
 She set me some difficult tasks, this time, and 
 these had to be done with scant allowance of time. 
 Luckily, I had organized my work in view of such 
 sudden calls, and as money was no object to my 
 
 ['43]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 employer, I bad many wires rigged, which I could 
 pull at a moment's notice. 'Two hours were, then, 
 sufficient time in which to find and deliver a spinet , 
 and to equip Mr. Day's studio for the denouement 
 of this story. How, by one trick or another, by 
 ruse and wile, she got his complete plan for the estab 
 lishment, was in itself a story which entertained 
 me many a night, in her apartments in East Fifty- 
 Eighth Street. 
 
 And the name she took, for this adventure, 
 shortened to "Peedeeweed," was my pet name for 
 her, when, at last, I had the right to use one.
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 HAVE you ever posed before ? " Stone 
 Day asked. 
 No, she never had, but she thought 
 she could, all right. 
 
 " I Ve got some magazine illustrations to 
 do, and I don't know but I can use you," the 
 artist said, looking at her critically. " You might 
 give me your name and address, if you will." 
 
 Pauline de Weed, 500 Twenty-Eighth Street. 
 But it was " P. de Weed " when Stone Day had 
 written it in charcoal on the gray ingrain wall 
 paper beside the door-jamb, and it was " P. de 
 Weed " he called her after that. 
 
 " Can you begin to-day ? " he asked. " I 'm 
 all ready to go ahead, and I might as well see 
 if you 're able to hold a pose." 
 
 Yes, she was ready, if her costume would do. 
 If not, she had plenty of others; in fact, that 
 was all she did have. They had been given 
 her by some rich relatives, who of course did n't 
 know she posed. 
 
 ['45]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 It was, indeed, the clothes and the air with 
 which she wore them that had prepossessed 
 Stone at first, and he did not hesitate to tell her 
 so. But also he admitted that there was " a lot 
 of stuff" in her face. "There's some drawing 
 in your nose and mouth," he muttered, as he in 
 spected the girl frankly through narrowed eyes. 
 
 Miss de Weed had a face which, when seri 
 ously composed, showed a quaint, old-fashioned 
 sort of earnestness ; but when she smiled, it 
 was with a gleeful abandon that half closed her 
 hazel eyes delightfully, and pricked two deep 
 dimples in her cheeks. She was petite, but her 
 gracile figure, the distinction with which her 
 head was set on her neck, and the massing of 
 her hair showed such subtle, effective propor 
 tions that there was no emphasis in her size. 
 The long, incurving lines of her three-quarter 
 coat of white broadcloth showed the trimness of 
 her waist, as the short skirt of the same material 
 did the neatness of her ankles and well-shod feet. 
 A square envelope hat with two scarlet plumes 
 completed the picture, more effective for its set 
 ting in that wide, dingy, disordered studio. 
 
 She watched Stone with great interest, as he 
 took up a canvas, adjusted it to his easel, and 
 [146]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 moved a small table to a place beneath the sky 
 light. 
 
 "Stand here, P. de Weed," he then said. 
 " This thing is to represent a modern society 
 girl standing against an old spinet. But I want 
 to make it a good deal more than a pretty girl 
 picture, and if it goes all right, I '11 paint it in 
 color. That 's the only way to get the values 
 right. Now, look as if you had just been spoken 
 to, and lay your hand along what would be the 
 keys of the instrument. That's good. Wait till 
 I take a look at the manuscript." 
 
 He delved into a heap of papers on the floor 
 art publications, photographs, sketches, news 
 papers, letters, a confused litter, and after a few 
 expletives drew out some proof-sheets. 
 
 " This author will want me to illustrate the 
 butler choking his heroine, I suppose. They 
 always expect a dime-novel cover; they expect 
 me to tell their story for them. I 'm going to 
 make a dignified thing of this. Here we are 
 c Miss Garnish's eyes followed him' do you 
 think you can manage that ? " 
 
 " It ought to be easy," she smiled, and took 
 the pose, needing but few suggestions before 
 the composition was arranged. Her position 
 
 ['47]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 was such that she could take only occasional 
 glimpses at him, when she thought he was not 
 looking. 
 
 Stone Day was a large, athletic-looking fel 
 low of some eight and twenty years. He had 
 a grotesquely rugged and boldly modeled face, 
 which, in spite of the many blemishes of its 
 complexion, was full of energy and simplicity 
 and generosity. He showed traces of overwork 
 and strain about his eyes, and the strong chin, 
 not too heavy, and his large but well-formed 
 nose gave an impression of reserved power. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " he asked his model, after 
 working silently for an hour. 
 
 " A little," she confessed. " The fact is, Mr. 
 Day, I have n't had any lunch, and I feel a 
 bit faint. I forgot to bring my purse with me. 
 You have n't a cracker or anything here, have 
 you?" 
 
 A quick, pained expression came, for a mo 
 ment, over Stone's face ; then he rose hastily. 
 " Oh, I 'm so sorry ! You wait a moment, and 
 I '11 run out and get you something to eat. 
 There 's a restaurant just around the corner, 
 and it won't take a minute." 
 
 He put on his hat, then hesitated, casting 
 [148]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 his eyes about the room. They finally rested 
 upon a violin beside the mantel. " Jove ! " he 
 exclaimed, " I forgot all about returning Smith's 
 fiddle. I '11 take it in to him, on my way." A 
 minute later he had slammed the door behind 
 him, and was running downstairs. 
 
 After he had left, Miss de Weed walked 
 slowly about the studio. It was large, but 
 scantily furnished, with little attempt at decora 
 tion. A few Japanese and German prints were 
 pinned to the wall, and a pen-and-ink sketch 
 " a mon ami, Day," stood on the mantel. A half- 
 filled bookcase stood between the windows, and 
 a collection of drawings and canvases upon the 
 floor, their faces all turned towards the wall. 
 The only interesting spot of color was a large 
 blue Cloisonne jar, alone upon a shelf. Miss 
 de Weed took it down to examine it, and her 
 glance fell carelessly inside. Then she put it 
 quickly back, with a smile. The jar held a col 
 lection of pawn-tickets a dozen or more. 
 
 Stone soon returned, and, opening a paste 
 board box, spread his refreshments upon the 
 model-stand sandwiches, a bottle of milk, 
 cheese, and a little Charlotte Russe. As she 
 sat down to this repast, Stone walked carelessly 
 
 [ H9]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 over towards the shelf. Miss de Weed, watch 
 ing him as carelessly, saw him take a pawn- 
 ticket from his pocket and drop it into the 
 jar. 
 
 When her pose was resumed, Stone went on 
 with his work, scarcely speaking to her except 
 occasionally to adjust her position, earnestly in 
 tent upon placing the composition well upon the 
 canvas before the light faded. By five o'clock 
 it was too dark to work longer, and he arose 
 and yawned. 
 
 " I guess that '11 do for to-day, P. de Weed ; 
 you 're all right ! I think I can do some bully 
 good things with you. Come to-morrow at ten, 
 will you ? " 
 
 
 
 Next morning Stone came running up the 
 three flights of narrow stairs, a bottle of milk 
 in one hand and his mail in the other, to find 
 Miss de Weed waiting for him outside his 
 door. 
 
 " I keep the key on this nail here," he ex 
 plained, " and you can always go right in, if 
 you want to. I 'm so glad you 're prompt. 
 I 'm crazy to get to work it's months since 
 I Ve had a model with any brains." He opened
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 the door and walked into the studio. " For the 
 love of Heaven, where did that come from ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 Miss de Weed, following his look, saw a bat 
 tered but picturesque old spinet standing in a 
 corner. 
 
 " Why, did n't you get it ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have plenty of things to spend my money 
 on, besides buying spinets," he answered. " I 'd 
 as soon think of buying a cloth-of-gold night 
 shirt or an ivory bootblack-stand. I need ham 
 and eggs too much. There 's some mistake. 
 I '11 have to ask the janitor about it." 
 
 " I thought you said you needed a spinet 
 for your picture ? " Miss de Weed said, frown 
 ing a little. 
 
 " Lord, I can put that in, in ten minutes, 
 from the Encyclopaedia. But we might as well 
 use this, now we have it, before the owner comes 
 for it. It was a funny coincidence, though, was n't 
 it ? Probably bought at an auction and sent to 
 the wrong address. Let 's see what the old thing 
 sounds like. It must be a regular tin pan by 
 this time." 
 
 He lifted the lid and drew up a stool. " I 
 only know one tune to play. My mother taught
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 it to me when I was twelve years old. I never 
 got farther than that. Wonder if I can re 
 member how it goes. See if you can recog 
 nize it." 
 
 He spread his fingers, bit his lip, and began. 
 At the sixth note of the air, instead of the thin, 
 metallic vibrations called from the other keys, 
 there came a harsh, rattling sound. 
 
 " Oh, that 's ' Robin Adair,' is n't it ? " cried 
 Miss de Weed. 
 
 " What there was of it," said Stone. " There 's 
 something the matter with B-flat. Kids been 
 putting papers in the wires, probably. I used 
 to, when I was a youngster. Let 's have a look ! " 
 
 He threw up the top, examined the strings 
 closely, and then carefully removed something 
 that had been neatly woven in and out between 
 the wires. He whistled in astonishment, then 
 held it up. 
 
 " What d' you think of that, P. de Weed ? 
 A hundred-dollar bill, by Jupiter ! This is get 
 ting interesting." 
 
 As Miss de Weed watched him, her smile 
 had grown more radiant. Now she clasped her 
 hands in delight. " How lovely ! " she cried. 
 " It 's real treasure-trove ! I 'm so glad ! " 
 ['52]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 Stone looked at the bill seriously. " No such 
 luck," he said. " They '11 come for this, all right. 
 I 'd better put it out of sight before I begin 
 to imagine what I could do with it." He walked 
 over to the Cloisonne jar and dropped the 
 money inside. 
 
 The negro janitress, upon being interviewed, 
 told him that the spinet had been brought at 
 nine o'clock that morning by two teamsters, 
 who had given Stone Day's name. The day 
 passed, bringing no further information. 
 
 A week went by, and there was still no news, 
 nor any claimant for the spinet; yet in spite 
 of Miss de Weed's opinion that the bill was 
 rightfully his, Stone would not use the money. 
 
 Meanwhile, the first illustration was finished, 
 painted upon a small canvas in his close, faithful 
 manner, and another pose was begun. Stone 
 had so long struggled with inferior and unin 
 telligent models, that Miss de Weed's cheerful, 
 clever, and sympathetic assistance inspired him 
 to better work than he had ever done before. 
 Her patience was never wearied, her promptness 
 was mathematical in its exactness, and her good 
 nature endless. He began, therefore, gradually 
 to permit himself a slight familiarity, though
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 he feared to spoil his good luck ; but as, unlike 
 most of his professional models, she took no 
 advantage of this freedom, worked as conscien 
 tiously and talked as little as ever, he grew to 
 treat her more and more as a friend in whom 
 he might trust. 
 
 She, on her part, watched him carefully, no 
 ticing every sign of privation and courageous 
 struggle that his face and clothes and habits all 
 pointed at. His pretenses at having eaten break 
 fast were as obvious as the holes in his shoes. 
 Bill collectors had so worried him that he had 
 bored a peephole in the panel of his door, so 
 that when any one knocked, he might protect 
 his privacy by silence. Still, Stone Day's ser 
 vices were in good demand, and he was always 
 busy, working on his black-and-whites often 
 till late at night. The cause of his poverty was 
 soon explained to his new model. 
 
 They were working together, one stormy 
 November afternoon, when there came a little 
 tapping at the door. Stone laid down his pal 
 ette and waited without speaking, putting his 
 finger warningly to his lips. The knock was 
 repeated. He arose with a scowl, and, tiptoe 
 ing to the peephole, looked into the hall.
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 The scowl changed to a pleased smile as he 
 threw open the door and admitted a young 
 girl, scarcely eighteen. 
 
 She was a timid, wistful little thing, brown 
 skinned, with a clever, pointed chin, whimsi 
 cally shaped brows over deep gray eyes, and 
 a triangular face, delicate in all its details of 
 temple, nostrils, and ears. She was dressed 
 cheaply, but with a certain odd, tasteful origi 
 nality. 
 
 Stone introduced her to Miss de Weed as 
 Miss Elsa Brand, giving each an equal consid 
 eration by the courtesy of his manner. Elsa 
 immediately took a chair by his side and begged 
 him to go on with his work. He consented, 
 and continued with the pose, speaking to her 
 occasionally, until the light had faded. Their 
 relationship might have been, so far as most 
 observers would notice, that of brother and 
 sister. When Miss de Weed watched him, 
 however, she suspected something closer and 
 dearer ; when she watched Elsa, she was sure 
 enough to make up her mind. 
 
 " I wish we could all have dinner here ! " 
 Stone exclaimed, when his work was put away. 
 " Would n't it be jolly ! It 's so horribly
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 sloppy to go out. Perhaps we can have some 
 tea, though, if there 's any left." 
 
 " That '11 be nice," said Elsa, " but first I 
 want to see your spinet. I 've heard so much 
 about it ! Is n't it a funny old thing ! I do 
 wish I could play on it ! " 
 
 " If you can stand it, I '11 give you my whole 
 repertoire, consisting of the one magic tune of 
 c Robin Adair,' " said Stone gayly. " The last 
 time I played it, I won a hundred dollars. Let 's 
 see if the spell still works." He sat down, and 
 produced such an astonishing series of thin, 
 metallic discords that Elsa soon held her hands 
 to her ears. 
 
 " Nothing doing, evidently," he said, peering 
 into the works and striking B-flat with mock 
 insistence. 
 
 Miss de Weed had been buttoning up her 
 mackintosh slowly, watching first one and then 
 the other. At this last remark she smiled, as if 
 inspired by some happy thought. Then she 
 turned to go. Both Stone and Elsa begged her 
 to stay and have tea with them, but pleading 
 errands to do, she escaped their protests and 
 ran downstairs. 
 
 " Do you know what happened after you
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 left?" Stone said to her next morning. "This 
 place is bewitched, that 's all ! A half hour after 
 you had gone, while Elsa and I were drinking 
 tea out of tumblers and eating soda biscuit, 
 two waiters burst into the room with a hamper 
 full of champagne, ice cream, and hot ducks, 
 and a tray full of dishes. They would n't tell 
 me who had ordered it. Would n't that come 
 and get you ? I pass it all up ! I can account 
 for the spinet as a natural mistake, and the 
 hundred-dollar bill as a miser's secret hoard ; 
 but a hot, expensive dinner appearing uncalled 
 out of a snowstorm is simply too good to be 
 true ! " 
 
 " Did n't you play ' Robin Adair ' on your 
 magic spinet ? " Miss de Weed asked, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " That 's a fact ! I forgot all about it ! There 
 must be something in the old thing, after all ! 
 But seriously, I don't see where the devil that 
 grub came from unless it was you did it ! 
 You 're not in love with me, P. de Weed, are 
 you?" 
 
 " Not to that extent," she laughed. 
 
 " I don't see how you could exactly afford 
 to buy wine and ducks, posing for me at fifty 
 
 [^57]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 cents an hour unless you are a princess in 
 disguise," he said reflectively. 
 
 "No, I'm not exactly that," said Miss de 
 Weed. 
 
 "What did you think of Elsa? " was his 
 next remark. 
 
 " I thought she was a dear ! Do tell me about 
 her." 
 
 " I will," Stone replied. " I want you to 
 know her. I don't know but that you can help 
 her and me." 
 
 As he scraped his palette, mixed his paints, 
 and blocked in his picture, his talk ran on. 
 Sometimes, when his painting demanded close 
 attention, he would work fifteen minutes with 
 out a word. Then he would lay down his pal 
 ette, light his pipe, and continue his narrative. 
 But for the most part, the story came out, two 
 or three sentences at a time, interrupted by 
 pauses, during which he looked at Miss de 
 Weed as if she were nothing more intelligent 
 than a lay figure. 
 
 Elsa had been a " State child ; " supported, 
 that is, at public expense in an orphan asylum 
 in Massachusetts. Her parents, both English, 
 apparently well-to-do and educated, had died
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 in a Boston hotel when Elsa was five years old, 
 and no trace of their connections or residence 
 had ever been found. At the asylum Elsa's 
 life had been more than usually unfortunate, 
 not on account of any unkindness on the part 
 of the attendants, or the hardships of institu 
 tional trials, but because, on account of her elfin 
 looks, she had been passed by, time after time, 
 for more obviously pretty children, by visitors 
 who came seeking children for adoption. It 
 had been the tragedy of her childhood to long 
 for some one to take her away, to be summoned 
 and hurriedly dressed in the most presentable 
 clothes the matron could find, to be shown to 
 the visitor, watch in vain for some tender glance 
 of interest or love and to go back again into 
 her gingham frock, to weep her heart out in 
 despairing disappointment. As she approached 
 the age of fourteen her sufferings became more 
 poignant, for if she were not adopted by the 
 time she reached that age, she would have to 
 be bound out as a servant until she was twenty- 
 one, to any one who made application for her 
 services. 
 
 " She was within a few months of fourteen 
 when I first saw her," said Stone, laying down 
 
 [159]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 both palette and pipe now, to finish his story. " I 
 happened to go through the institution, hoping 
 to get a good child model, and Elsa was sitting 
 by a window, alone, watching the clouds, with 
 an expression I have never forgotten ; though, 
 thank God, I 've never seen her have it since. 
 I don't know that you can see all an artist sees 
 in her face, P. de Weed, but I saw that she 
 was beautiful. I saw more than that. I saw 
 sweetness and strength and humor; I saw a mind 
 and a spirit. It came over me in a flash of in 
 tuition that I would never see just what I saw 
 there in any woman's face again, though I should 
 look for years, and I was wise enough or foolish 
 enough to fall in love, then and there, with a 
 little girl thirteen years old ! Extraordinary, 
 isn't it ! But it's been done before. There was 
 Swift and Stella, and there have been others 
 and there will be again. I got some friends of 
 mine to adopt her, but I 've paid all her ex 
 penses ever since that day. I 've been waiting 
 all this time for her to grow up, waiting for her 
 to be educated, waiting for her to know a little 
 of the world and other men, waiting for her to 
 love me as I want to be loved as I love her. 
 She 's eighteen now, but I don't know whether 
 [160]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 she cares for me or not. I 'm ten years her 
 senior, but that ought n't to matter. I wish I 
 could believe that she 'd ever care for an ugly, 
 poor, stupid beggar like me ! What d' you 
 think, P. de Weed ? " 
 
 " I think she does," said Miss de Weed. 
 " I 've watched her, and I Ve noticed a good 
 deal but of course not even a woman can be 
 sure, always. But I think she 's very fond of 
 you." 
 
 " If I could only find out some way," he 
 said, walking up and down the studio, gazing 
 at the ceiling ; " but after all, I don't know but 
 it would be worse if I did. I don't see how I 
 could marry her. I can't save any money." 
 
 Miss de Weed found a smile at last. "I 
 think you '11 have to play c Robin Adair' again," 
 she said jokingly. 
 
 He gave a grunt, half laughter and half 
 scorn, and walked, still abstracted, to the old 
 spinet, where he pulled up a chair and sat 
 down. The air, distorted and discordant, came 
 tortured from the tuneless keys. 
 
 " Abracadabra ! Let the incantation work ! " 
 he muttered, as he struck B-flat. Then he arose 
 and walked back to his easel. 
 
 [161]
 
 A Little .Sister of Destiny 
 
 At twelve o'clock Miss de Weed announced 
 her intention of going out for her luncheon. 
 Stone seemed a bit surprised. Heretofore, either 
 she had brought food and they had eaten to 
 gether in the studio, or they had gone across the 
 street to sit up at a high counter, side by side. 
 He was a hard worker, and made the most of 
 his time downtown. 
 
 She returned at one o'clock, in high spirits, 
 with a little bunch of violets, bought for him, 
 she said, on the street corner. Apologizing for 
 her delay, she set her feet in the chalk marks 
 on the floor and took her pose. 
 
 At three o'clock there was a loud, officious 
 knock on the door. Stone scowled and kept 
 on working. The knock was repeated, more 
 loudly. Stone did not appear to notice it. Miss 
 de Weed, in this pose, held a wineglass, as if 
 drinking a toast. At this moment, it fell from 
 her fingers and crashed upon the floor. 
 
 Stone arose, his scowl deeper than ever. " I 
 suppose I '11 have to open the door, now we 're 
 discovered. I did want to finish this darned 
 thing to-day, though. If it 's a collector, I '11 
 kill him ! " 
 
 So saying, he threw open the door. A young 
 [162]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 man, with a short black mustache and eyeglasses, 
 appeared upon the threshold. 
 
 " Is this Mr. Stone Day? " he asked. Stone 
 admitted the fact. 
 
 " Mr. Day," the stranger went on, " I got 
 your address from one of the magazines, and 
 I 'd like very much to see some of your work, 
 if you have time to show it to me. There are 
 two or three of your drawings that have ap 
 peared lately and interested me a lot; I 'd like 
 to get hold of some of them, if you 're willing 
 to sell them." 
 
 " Come in ! " said Stone, and his tone was 
 cordial. 
 
 For half an hour the brisk young man ques 
 tioned, examined canvases and drawings, criti 
 cised, gossiped, and at rare intervals cast a 
 swift, furtive glance at Miss de Weed. She did 
 not join the conversation, however, but, taking 
 up a book, pretended to read. Once, during 
 the discussion of a picture she was particularly 
 fond of, she nodded surreptitiously. Once she 
 shook her head. 
 
 When at last the young man left, Stone came 
 and laid a cheque silently upon the table before 
 her. It was drawn for four hundred dollars,
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 and signed "Winton Rayne." Miss de Weed 
 smiled. 
 
 "* Robin Adair' made good, all right, did n't 
 he ? " 
 
 " I '11 never give that spinet up now ! " Stone 
 exclaimed. 
 
 There were gayer times in the studio after 
 that. Stone, urged by both the girls, consented 
 to let up a little in the pace he had set for him 
 self. Elsa dropped in occasionally, and stopped 
 for longer talks with Miss de Weed. Sometimes 
 the model would come early, let herself in, and 
 read till Stone came. 
 
 One day, finding her there in the morning, 
 he began anxiously : 
 
 " I saw Elsa last night, P. de Weed I see 
 her almost every night. I ought to stay away and 
 give her a chance to see other men, but I can't ! 
 I Ve simply got to find out how she feels about 
 me. I don't think I ought to ask her until I 
 know. I don't want her to sacrifice herself just 
 for gratitude to me, and I 'm afraid she 'd be in 
 clined to do it. I don't want her to take me from 
 pity, either. I don't want her unless she loves 
 me, truly and deeply. I want to be sure, and I 
 want her to be sure. I want you to find out for 
 [164]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 me. It seems a mean trick to put her to the 
 test, but I think that the circumstances justify 
 it. What do you say, P. de Weed ? " 
 
 " Why, what do you mean ? " she asked. 
 " What can I do ? " 
 
 " I Ve been thinking it over," he said, " and 
 as near as I can see, the old-fashioned test of 
 jealousy is the only way. Suppose we managed 
 to give her the idea that we are well, a 
 little fond of each other, you and I, d' you see? 
 Now, if she is merely grateful to me for what 
 I Ve done, she '11 be rather glad to see me in 
 terested in a nice girl whom she likes ; and she 
 does like you. But if she cares for me the way 
 I care for her, she '11 be jealous, won't she ? 
 She can't help it. Any woman would be, if she 
 really loved a man. So, if we can make her 
 jealous, I 'm sure of her, and I '11 marry her 
 with a free conscience." 
 
 " I see," said Miss de Weed. " You want 
 me to do a little acting with you. I don't know 
 that I particularly agree with all your theories, 
 though." 
 
 " It does seem a low-down trick, does n't it? 
 I can't bear to think of hurting her, but it must 
 be done." 
 
 [165]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " It 's a very interesting experiment in psy 
 chology, at any rate," said Miss de Weed. " I 
 think I 'd like to try it." 
 
 Stone himself could never have planned such 
 a programme as was now put in operation for 
 Elsa's benefit. Its details were the subtleties 
 one woman instinctively knows will be most 
 effective upon another. Stone followed Miss 
 de Weed's orders and both watched the pathetic 
 little victim, waiting for the first sign of appre 
 hension. By this time Miss de Weed's poses 
 were finished, and Stone had now no profes 
 sional use for her. She came in often, however, 
 and her visits had an extra significance because 
 they were gratuitous. 
 
 Elsa often found the two apparently absorbed 
 in conversations from which they withdrew 
 somewhat reluctantly, or carried on in such a 
 way that it seemed to include Elsa only at pat 
 ronizing intervals. Miss de Weed's eyes seldom 
 really left Stone, and she was quick to anticipate 
 his wants, waiting upon him with an indulgent 
 alacrity. She was often discovered dusting and 
 rearranging the mantel or his papers, or serving 
 him in any one of the many little ways which 
 [166]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 Elsa had once considered to be her own privi 
 lege. Or, they would be playing chess together, 
 interminable games which she begged them not 
 to stop on her account, and which they often 
 did not stop, though they seemed to separate 
 her from them by an enormous intellectual dis 
 tance. 
 
 Most effective of all was Miss de Weed's 
 way of welcoming Elsa when she came, or, with 
 Stone, bidding her farewell when she left, mani 
 festing a cordiality which seemed to assume a 
 part-proprietorship in the studio. Miss de Weed 
 used the words " we " and " our " more often 
 when she referred to Stone and herself, or served 
 tea on the model-stand. Elsa was usually in 
 cluded in their plans, obviously as an after 
 thought, and, as she soon perceived, only when 
 she happened to be present when those plans 
 were made. There was reference to many little 
 excursions occurring during her absence. A 
 rather thick letter or two, addressed to " Stone 
 Day, Esq.," in Miss de Weed's extravagant 
 handwriting was often in evidence upon the 
 table. Stone and Miss de Weed made many 
 remarks to each other which were quite over 
 Elsa's head, and these were never explained.
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 The two conspirators went so far, sometimes, 
 as to exchange a few words in French, a lan 
 guage which Elsa was ashamed of never having 
 studied. 
 
 If the girl suffered, in noticing these evi 
 dences of Stone's growing intimacy with Miss 
 de Weed, she made no sign of jealousy, but 
 treated them always with her habitual sweetness 
 and cheerfulness, and took her place as third 
 in the trio without protest. It became neces 
 sary, therefore, for Stone and Miss de Weed 
 to complicate their strategy in the endeavor to 
 force Elsa's hand, but the deceit hurt Stone 
 almost more than he could bear. Elsa sur 
 rendered her privileges, one by one, almost 
 proudly, as if she were conferring gifts, and at 
 every such piece of magnanimity Stone's heart 
 almost stopped beating. 
 
 The climax came one day, when, after knock 
 ing upon the studio door, Elsa heard a surrep 
 titious confusion before she was admitted. For 
 some time the conversation was constrained. 
 Then Elsa looked at Stone composedly, and 
 for the first time in weeks assumed her old 
 place and manner. 
 
 " Stone," she said calmly, " I left my rubbers 
 [168]
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 at home, and my feet are wet. Would you mind 
 going over to get them for me while I dry my 
 shoes here? " 
 
 He arose, slightly surprised, but said, " Why, 
 of course I'll be glad to go for you," and 
 taking his hat and umbrella, left the two girls 
 alone. 
 
 Elsa came over to where Miss de Weed sat, 
 and put her arm about her waist. " I sent him 
 away on purpose, so that I could talk to you, 
 P. de Weed," she confessed, " but I hated to 
 make him go. You '11 forgive me this once, 
 won't you ? I 've something to say to you, 
 dear." She laid her head on Miss de Weed's 
 shoulder and looked across at the fire in the little 
 grate, not noticing the other's smile and quick 
 indrawn breath. 
 
 " I 've worked it all out," Elsa began, " about 
 Stone and you and me. Things have changed 
 so during the last few weeks that at first I did n't 
 know what to think or do. But now I see quite 
 clearly. At first, I confess, it was hard for me to 
 adjust myself, but now it's all so simple and easy 
 that really I feel very peaceful and happy about 
 it. Stone is in love with you, P. de Weed. Of 
 course you know it, but I 'm not sure that he 
 
 [169]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 does yet, being a man. He 's known me for so 
 long that it may be hard for him to acknowledge 
 even to himself that he cares more for you than 
 he does for me. He may even think that I am 
 in love with him. Of course I 'm not ! But he 's 
 so loyal and so good that he might want to sac 
 rifice himself on my account. I want to make 
 it perfectly easy for him. I want him to marry 
 you, P. de Weed. It 's really the very best thing 
 that could happen to him. You are exactly 
 suited to each other, and you 'd both be happy. 
 I 'm too young and inexperienced for him, and 
 I want him to marry some one who is clever 
 and good, one who can help him and be an in 
 spiration to him in his work, as you can. You 
 don't mind my talking so frankly to you, do 
 you, P. de Weed ? " 
 
 Miss de Weed could not answer for a moment, 
 and sat silent, patting Elsa's hand. Then she 
 said, "You're a wonderful little girl, Elsa. I 
 don't know how to answer you. I did n't expect 
 you 'd take it like this." 
 
 " Oh, I 've thought so hard about it, wonder 
 ing what I ought to do," said Elsa softly. " I Ve 
 lain awake so many, many nights thinking it 
 out, but it 's all perfectly clear to me now. You
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 mustn't think I 'm suffering in the least I'm 
 not I 'm jo glad it's all settled. I'm really 
 very, very happy, P. de Weed. Stone and I will 
 still be good friends, and I can be your friend, 
 too, can't I ? " 
 
 " Indeed you can, dear, though I don't de 
 serve it," said Miss de Weed, kissing her on 
 the cheek, and leaving there a tear or two. 
 
 " Stone is selling so many pictures now that 
 he can afford to get married soon. I hope he 
 will," Elsa went on. " He is n't living the right 
 way at all, now, you know. He needs some one 
 to take care of him and see that he eats regu 
 larly and gets exercise enough. Perhaps you '11 
 be able to fix up the studio the way he 's wanted 
 to for so long. He would love so to have beau 
 tiful things about him. He 's planned it all out 
 so many times with me, I know just how it 
 would be. Oh, but of course he must have told 
 you, too," she sighed. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss de Weed, "he's talked to 
 me about it. He is so fond of old mahogany 
 and brasses and tapestries and rugs, isn't he? " 
 
 "Oh, but I love it as it is, though," said Elsa, 
 rising and going to the fireplace. " I love this 
 dear little old grate, and the torn paper on the
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 walls, and the cracks in the floor and every 
 thing about it. Is n't it lovely when the twilight 
 comes, and you can see the lights over there 
 glowing under a red, smoky sky ? Did you 
 know that there 's one little place between the 
 roofs where you can see the river at sunset? 
 Then, it 's so quiet here. I 've come in so many 
 times just as he was finishing his work and sat 
 and talked. Oh, I do hope I can do something 
 for him occasionally. You '11 always let me know 
 if there 's anything I can do, won't you ? Per 
 haps while you 're away I can stay here some 
 times." 
 
 Her eyes wandered about the room, and then 
 a brave little smile fluttered on her lips. " Is n't 
 it strange about that old spinet ? Where could 
 it have come from ? Was n't it fine of Stone not 
 to use that money ? But now I think he ought 
 to. The old spinet has brought him luck, has n't 
 it ? Just think every time he has played 
 ' Robin Adair ' something perfectly lovely has 
 happened. I wonder if it would if I played it. 
 I 'd love to bring him some good luck ! I 'm 
 going to try, P. de Weed. I feel almost super 
 stitious about it. Perhaps I can pick it out 
 with one finger. Let 's see how does it go ? "
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 She took up the first line of the air with a 
 soft, pretty voice, quavering a little : 
 
 " ' What 's this dull town to me ? 
 Robin 's not here ! ' " 
 
 She sat down to the spinet, and with her little 
 gloved forefinger struggled up the scale until 
 she came to B-flat. Then she stopped and turned 
 her head away from Miss de Weed and rose, 
 biting her lip. Her self-possession returned in 
 a moment, however, and she even succeeded 
 in a wan smile. Then she went towards the 
 door. 
 
 " It 's fine of you to take it so simply, P. de 
 Weed," she said, bravely holding out her hand. 
 " But I was sure you would, if I were honest 
 with you. Now I must get away before Stone 
 comes back. I 'm going home to write him a 
 letter that will explain everything, and give him 
 absolute freedom. Good-by, dear heart, I 'm 
 so happy ! " 
 
 She went out the door quickly and disappeared 
 down the stairs. Miss de Weed arose now, and 
 tiptoed to the landing. She heard the footsteps 
 patter along the hallway below and start down 
 the second flight of stairs. Then they went 
 slower, and stopped. There was an interval of
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 absolute silence. At last they started down 
 again resolutely. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, Stone appeared, 
 and looked about the studio in surprise. " Why, 
 where 's Elsa ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " She 's gone home," said Miss de Weed, 
 " and if you take my advice, you '11 lose no time 
 in following her." 
 
 "Ah, she's jealous at last?" he asked, with 
 a great hope showing in his face. 
 
 " No, she 's not jealous ! " said Miss de Weed. 
 
 His face was drawn and haggard now. 
 
 " Stone Day," said Miss de Weed quietly, 
 putting on her coat, " you have a good deal yet 
 to learn about women. Elsa is not jealous 
 she 's no more capable of that than she is of 
 revenge. She 's too sweet and fine, she 's too 
 big for that sort of selfishness. I wanted to 
 prove to you that you can't test a fine woman 
 by common jealousy. There 's only one way 
 to test a woman, and that is by magnanimity. 
 There 's no height of generosity that a woman 
 who is nobly in love won't rise to, there 's no 
 passion so strong as a true woman's desire to 
 sacrifice herself for her lover. Elsa loves you 
 as you scarcely deserve to be loved ; and if you
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 want a noble, devoted girl for your wife, go 
 after her now, before she has suffered a moment 
 longer ! " 
 
 " But how do you know ? " he demanded 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Because I 'm a woman and have eyes, I sup 
 pose. I 've seen it from the first, but I wanted 
 you to be sure. Ask her how I know. Go this 
 instant and tell her everything. Then take her 
 to dinner and bring her back to this studio she 
 loves so much." 
 
 He left her alone in the twilight, and hurried 
 downstairs. 
 
 
 
 It was after nine o'clock that evening when 
 Stone came back, with Elsa blissful upon his 
 arm. There was a scrap of paper under the 
 door. He picked it up and read it aloud. 
 
 " DEAR S. AND E., I have been suddenly 
 called out of town, and don't know just when 
 I '11 see you again, so wish you both joy. 
 
 P. DE WEED." 
 
 " Funny she did n't say anything about it 
 this afternoon," Elsa remarked. " I hope it 
 is n't sickness or trouble."
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " You don't think she she could have 
 really cared ? " Stone ventured. 
 
 " Perhaps she was in love with you. I don't 
 see how she could ever help it," said Elsa. 
 " But she seemed so happy ! " 
 
 He unlocked the studio door and stepped 
 in. His foot fell upon a soft rug. Even in the 
 darkness the place seemed strange and changed. 
 Then, walking toward the gas-jet, he struck 
 against a heavy table. He scratched a match, 
 and the flare was reflected from the polished 
 planes of mahogany and danced in the dull glow 
 of brasses. He gave a cry of surprise, and Elsa 
 clung to him in affright. 
 
 Then he reached for the gas-jet and lighted 
 it. The room was transformed with heavy rugs 
 and rare old tapestries, old furniture and odd 
 ornaments of brass and porcelain. Every article 
 he had ever mentioned was there in its place as 
 if he himself had arranged it. Heavy, dewy 
 bunches of violets on mantel and tables sent 
 a refreshing odor that permeated the place. 
 They stood and looked from piece to piece in 
 bewilderment. Then he stopped suddenly and 
 turned to Elsa with a queer expression. 
 
 "The spinet is gone ! " he exclaimed.
 
 A Miracle in B-Flat 
 
 " Why, so it is ! Our magic spinet ! " 
 
 Then she sank into an easy chair and smiled 
 up at him. " Oh, Stone, do you know I just 
 remember, now I tried to play < Robin Adair' 
 on it this afternoon but I broke down and 
 almost cried I had to stop." 
 
 " On B-flat ? " he asked seriously. 
 
 " Yes ! " Elsa's eyes were open wide. 
 
 Then she added, " I 'm almost glad it 's gone. 
 I would have been afraid of it. And we would 
 never have dared to play f Robin Adair ' on it 
 again. It has brought us so much. It has 
 brought us all we can ever want, has n't it, dear ? 
 It has brought us each other ! But is n't it too 
 bad P. de Weed is n't here to enjoy it all ? She 'd 
 be so surprised ! " 
 
 Stone Day thrust his hands in his pockets 
 and began to think. After a moment's silence 
 his face broke into a smile. 
 
 " No," he said, " I don't think she 'd be so 
 much surprised as pleased, Elsa. I have an 
 idea that she understands this sort of magic 
 as well as she understands women."
 
 VI 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 THIS story is, perhaps, more appealing to 
 women than to men, for it is a tale of 
 setting rather than plot, and of tempera 
 ment rather than of "love and action" as the 
 magazine editors say. Women, I mean, will under 
 stand better the state of Ella Norris's unrest and 
 her craving for the many foolish little things that 
 were denied her. 
 
 I think it was a remark of mine that led Miss 
 Million off on this track. She was commenting 
 upon the way a school-teacher professed to enjoy 
 her work. 
 
 " Was she a kinder gar tner ?" I asked y a bit 
 sarcastically. 
 
 " Why ? " said Miss Million. 
 
 "Because," I informed her, "a kinder gar tner 
 has one of the few professions that attempts to 
 compel happiness and enthusiasm as one of its 
 duties." 
 
 Miss Million seemed struck by the observation. 
 
 ['79]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 How Miss N orris was selected, I am not sure, 
 though I know that she was not the first one 
 visited. As Reba White, Miss Million did much 
 investigation before she found the heroine she 
 wanted one with a true imagination, a sense of 
 the Relative Importance of Things, and one, more 
 over, at that " dead centre " in her career where 
 a school-teacher is apt to be most in need of 
 Romance. 
 
 I did my share in the preparation for this little 
 drama, but Miss Million needed all her own in 
 genuity, especially in such details as the making of 
 the costumes, to ensure a success. It was my part 
 to study Merryng, and as we worked separately, 
 it happened that there were four persons to be 
 surprised at a denouement which the reader, of 
 course, from my manner of telling, must foresee 
 from the beginning. 'The story, however, is too 
 dependent upon other things for that to matter 
 at least, I think, so far as regards women 
 readers.
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 THE new nursemaid was a decided suc 
 cess. As Miss Ella Norris, the head 
 kindergartner, watched the girl, she 
 congratulated herself upon the acquisition. 
 
 Reba had already dusted the room, placed 
 the big box containing the " second gift " on 
 Miss Norris's round table, and counted out the 
 sticks and tablets for the next day. She was now 
 greeting the children as they entered, pink- 
 cheeked and snowy, hanging up their garments, 
 and making an occasional trip to the washstand 
 with some reluctant youngster. She was a slen 
 der, graceful girl of twenty-three years, modestly 
 gowned in a navy-blue serge suit, with smart 
 collar and cuffs which called attention to the 
 exquisite carriage of her small head and her 
 delicate, clever hands. As she stooped over 
 the refractory little Italians and Hebrews, her 
 face was animated with an engaging by-play 
 of crinkled, half-shut eyelids and dimples that 
 played in and out of her cheeks. 
 
 Reba was not a trained kindergartner, but she 
 
 [181]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 enjoyed her new work enthusiastically and in 
 telligently, and had already proved her worth ; 
 for besides her regular work, she played the 
 piano and led the singing with grace and spirit. 
 Miss Norris was beginning to find Reba as 
 much of a companion as a helper. 
 
 Ella Norris herself was of a different type, 
 and had a less alluring feminine charm. She was 
 taller, her face was sharper and made more boy 
 ish by a mass of crisp, almost wiry, curling 
 hair. The severity of her erect, vigorous fig 
 ure and cleanly chiseled features was, however, 
 tempered by her clear blue eyes, which shone 
 in a direct, straightforward gaze, and still more 
 by the simplicity and sincerity of her speech. 
 She had been seven years in the harness, and 
 though still as conscientious as ever, at times 
 there were in her expression symptoms of the 
 inevitable unrest of the young school-teacher, 
 due to the limitations of her routine. She was 
 apparently at that crisis where hope, if not 
 ambition, falters. 
 
 To-day, perhaps, this was more evident than 
 
 usual. The new class was crowded and unruly. 
 
 Miss Norris's irritation was given no expression 
 
 in word or in tone, but her work became more 
 
 [182]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 like labor and she performed it mechanically. 
 When the time came for "free play," she stood 
 by the window with Reba, watching her charges 
 with an alert ranging eye, and for the first time 
 confided in her assistant. 
 
 " Look at them ! " she exclaimed, in a tone 
 whimsically petulant. " Look at that herd of 
 kobolds who have me in their power ! Yes, 
 Josef, you may water the little seeds we planted 
 last week and see if they 've waked up yet." 
 She turned wistfully to Reba. " Did you ever 
 read f The Princess and the Goblins ' and the 
 rest of the ' Curdie ' books by George Mac- 
 donald?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Reba, " I should say I had ! 
 I remember especially how the princess was 
 lost and captured in the underground passages 
 away inside of the mountain." 
 
 " That 's just the way I feel, somehow. I 
 seem to be out of the world, and forced to be a 
 slave to these little gnomes and pixies. No, 
 Josef, not so much water. Be careful, or you '11 
 drown them. Pauline, you go and show him 
 how to do it." 
 
 " Perhaps Curdie will come and rescue you 
 some time," said Reba. " Don't you remember
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 how he used to frighten away the goblins with 
 his rhymes and take the princess home ? " 
 
 " There 's precious little chance of Curdie's 
 ever finding me," said Miss Norris. " I don't 
 have a chance to meet any men at the Johnsons', 
 where I room, and even if I did, no one would 
 ever suspect a school-teacher of having any 
 imagination or romance. Yes, Judith, I see. 
 Your horse is very pretty, but he has only three 
 legs, and he would n't be able to run very fast. 
 Try it again, dear. Thank you, Walter, you 're 
 a real little helper." 
 
 " Oh, I know how Gulliver felt," she went 
 on, " when he woke up and found himself 
 bound by thousands of little threads, a giant 
 forced to do the will of dwarfs. That 's the 
 school-teacher's life. They think you ought 
 to be happy and contented because you have to 
 be with forty children all day long. Josie, 
 you must let Max look at that picture-book 
 too." 
 
 " Don't you know any men at all ? " asked 
 Reba. 
 
 Miss Norris smiled, and drew a little yellow- 
 haired urchin to her side affectionately. " The 
 only man in my world is one who lives upstairs 
 [184]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 in the room over mine. And all I know about 
 him is that he comes running upstairs every 
 morning at one or two o'clock. Then he walks 
 back and forth for an hour, and finally throws his 
 boots down on the floor. It 's just like the rest 
 of my life. It's all cut and dried and juiceless. 
 There 's absolutely nothing to look forward to 
 not even Christmas. I know I shall go to 
 Aunt Jane's and spend a perfectly stupid day, 
 and come back with half-a-dozen embroidered 
 lawn handkerchiefs, a dull book, and perhaps 
 a pair of bed-shoes." 
 
 She turned wearily to her class, and with an 
 effort assumed her professional sweetness of 
 manner. " Now, children, play that you 're little 
 kitties, and see how softly you can creep into 
 your seats. We have a new card to sew to-day." 
 
 After school was over, as Reba was picking 
 up the things, Miss Norris sighed. " Oh, I wish 
 something would happen ! I don't insist upon 
 an adventure. I don't care if it 's only a knot 
 or a snarl in this long string of monotony." 
 
 " I know what you ought to do," Reba ex 
 claimed. " You ought to answer a ' Personal ' 
 I saw in the paper this morning. I '11 show it 
 to you."
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 She ran out and brought back a paper, from 
 which she read with merry emphasis : 
 
 "ANY ONE desiring an original and interesting 
 Christmas present, who will write stating exactly 
 what is wanted, will hear of something to his ad 
 vantage by addressing Box 152, Herald." 
 
 " What a ridiculous advertisement ! It must 
 be some sort of advertising scheme, don't you 
 think, Reba ? Oh, of course, it might be the idea 
 of some charity or a millionaire, but rich people 
 never have enough imagination for that. I sup 
 pose they '11 get hundreds of letters. It would 
 be rather fun to answer it, would n't it ? I 'd 
 never dare to, though." 
 
 Two days afterward, Miss Norris came to 
 school with a new light dancing in her blue eyes. 
 She sat down and drew off her gloves, saying, 
 " What do you think, Reba ? I answered that 
 advertisement after all, and I Ve just got a 
 reply!" 
 
 " Have you, really ? " said Reba, going on 
 with her dusting. She kept her face turned away 
 for a moment, and then added : " Do tell me 
 about it ! " 
 
 " I went home and thought it all over," Miss 
 [186]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 Norris replied. " It came over me again that 
 I lived in a world I could see but not touch. I 
 think I have fine instincts about things. I think 
 I could be rich beautifully, and what I 'd like 
 most of anything is to have one chance at play 
 ing the lady, if only for a day. It is n't that I 
 want to be a heroine of romance or a princess, 
 but I 'd like to have all my surroundings right 
 for just once wear the beautiful clothes, es 
 pecially those luxurious, unpractical, exquisite 
 things that we can't afford, and would have no 
 chance to wear if we could. I want to live in a 
 beautiful house just long enough to talk with a 
 man who is neither a fool nor a fop nor a flirt, 
 and who would never suspect me of being a 
 kindergartner." 
 
 " Did you write all that ? " 
 
 " Yes, and more. And I 've got an answer 
 that I positively don't dare to believe it 's so 
 wonderful ! It 's in a woman's handwriting, and 
 it's signed * M. M.' She says she will hire a 
 suite of rooms in the St. Elmo for Christmas 
 day, and I can stay there until midnight. If I 
 have any fear about accepting her offer, I may 
 take a companion. She offers to provide every 
 thing I wish clothes, meals, servants, every-
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 thing. Oh, and the most wonderful part of all, 
 she offers to invite some one to come to dinner, 
 and she guarantees him to be a gentleman. 
 What would you do, Reba ? " 
 
 " Do ! I 'd go, of course ! " said Reba. " You 
 may be sure that no woman would be able to 
 do that for you at the St. Elmo unless she were 
 all right ; and oh, Miss Norris, won't you let 
 me come and be your maid ? I 'm sure I could 
 do it beautifully in a lace cap and apron." 
 
 " Oh, would you ? If you will, I '11 accept it. 
 I wonder who she can be." 
 
 " I 'm wondering more who the young man 
 can be," said Reba. " But, good gracious, it 's 
 ten minutes to nine ! I must let those blessed 
 infants in." 
 
 Miss Norris's eyes had idly followed Reba's 
 movements as she tucked her gold watch into 
 her belt. " Why, what a beautiful watch ! " she 
 exclaimed. " I never noticed it before. Those 
 garnets on the back look almost like rubies. 
 What does the ' M ' stand for ? " 
 
 " It used to belong to my Aunt Margaret," 
 said Reba. " They do look like rubies, don't 
 they ? " She flew out to the front door. 
 
 [188]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 In a front room on the fourth floor of an 
 uptown lodging-house a young man named 
 Merryng sat writing. He had a first name, but 
 it was so long since he had heard it that it would 
 have come to him almost as a shock if it were 
 spoken aloud. He had been but two years in 
 New York, and the newspaper office where he 
 worked, as Federal Court reporter, did not en 
 courage easy familiarities. He had few oppor 
 tunities to make friends elsewhere, his hours 
 being long and late. 
 
 When Merryng was free from the routine, 
 he spent his time in an avocation which sepa 
 rated him even more from ordinary human 
 sympathy. His employment upon this partic 
 ular December noonday was characteristic of 
 his hidden life. He was writing a poem of 
 that sort usually affected by the young, the 
 ingenuous, and the aesthetic especially fancied, 
 perhaps, by those who have been steeped in the 
 classical courses of a college curriculum. 
 
 He looked up from a mass of scrawled papers, 
 whose lines sang of nymphs and groves and 
 fountains, Hymettus, Nepenthe, Hylos, and 
 such Greek images, and, lighting his pipe, 
 began to pace the floor as poets must. 
 
 [189] 
 
 V
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Walking, he surveyed the room carelessly, and 
 noted every horrible solecism of his landlady's 
 taste gilded bamboo easel, velvet mantel- 
 drape, painted plaque, black walnut furniture, 
 and pictures too distressing for description. At 
 last, wearied mentally as well as physically, he 
 threw himself upon his lumpy couch, and with 
 a yawn picked up the morning paper. He got 
 no farther than the first column of the front 
 page, for there his eye stopped at the following 
 " Personal: "- 
 
 " ANY ONE desiring an original and interesting 
 Christmas present, who will write stating exactly 
 what is wanted, will hear of something to his ad 
 vantage by addressing Box 152, Herald." 
 
 The paper dropped from Merrying's hand, 
 and he passed into a day-dream, spending him 
 self in speculation upon the meaning of the 
 notice and its possibilities. His training had 
 fostered a cynical view of life ; for owing to his 
 acquaintanceship with the Federal Secret Ser 
 vice agents, he was an authority on every form 
 of confidence-game extant. He had grown, in 
 fact, almost to suspect a man to be a fakir until 
 proven honest ; and the newspaper advertise 
 ments were to him things almost humorously 
 [ 190]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 incredible. He had to confess now, however, 
 that this was a scheme beyond his experience, and 
 the temptation to investigate it was irresistible. 
 He decided to make his researches, however, in 
 a private rather than in a professional spirit. 
 As he wrote, therefore, something of his poetic 
 temperament came out, and inspired by the 
 romantic suggestion of the notice, he took the 
 offer insensibly more and more seriously. 
 
 " Box 152. 
 
 " DEAR SIR OR MADAM, whose sublime sug 
 gestion kindles this question in my eager breast, 
 may I not hope that I shall be requited and 
 not be slighted in your bequest ? What would 
 I have unique and interesting? What am I 
 questing for Christmas cheer? My Muse I 
 seek, indulgent and inspiring, her favor fir 
 ing, divinely dear. Send me some blue-eyed, 
 fascinating maiden whose lips are laden with 
 words of praise a loyal friend to whom you 
 shall confide me, to help and guide me through 
 dreaming days. To her may I indite my way 
 ward fancies, my mad romances and idling 
 prayer ; if she accepts the fruit of my emotion, 
 I have devotion for her to share ! "
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " There ! " he exclaimed, as he signed his name 
 with a flourish. " I think that ought to hold 'em 
 for a while. If there 's possibly anything behind 
 it, they may be interested, but if it 's a faking 
 scheme, of course I 've sawed myself off. It 
 does n't sound as if it came from Rahway, New 
 Jersey, where the come-ons dwell. I '11 post it, 
 though, just for the fun of it, and probably 
 never hear from it again." 
 
 As Merryng walked up and down the room 
 dressing for the afternoon, he grinned at the 
 thought of his vagary. " It would be a big thing 
 for me," he said to himself, "if I only could find 
 some blue-eyed Athene at whose shrine, etc., 
 etc. But I'm afraid I shall have to content my 
 self with the inspiration of that girl downstairs, 
 who always wakes me up by warbling, * Every 
 morn at eight o'clock I bring thee violets.' " 
 
 It was early on a clear, cold Christmas morn 
 ing when Miss Norris and Reba called at the 
 office of the Hotel St. Elmo for the key to the 
 mysterious apartment. They rode up the eleva 
 tor in silence, holding each other's hand. The 
 door of the suite was opened ; they walked in 
 and closed it behind them.
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 Miss Norris made a dash through the rooms 
 hall, reception-room, parlors, dining-room, 
 library, and bedchambers. She came back, her 
 blue eyes burning with excitement. " Oh, Reba," 
 she exclaimed, " it 's marvelous ! It looks as if 
 a marchioness had only just left I never saw 
 such luxury, such pictures and rugs and furni 
 ture ! You should see the clothes hanging in 
 the closets ! " She stopped her rhapsody to gaze 
 at Reba, who had been busy with her costume, 
 and now stood, sweetly deferential, in the cap 
 and apron of a lady's maid. 
 
 " Shall mademoiselle put on now ze negli- 
 g'ee? " said the girl demurely. 
 
 For answer, Miss Norris hugged her. " Oh, 
 you lovely thing!" she exclaimed. "I almost 
 forgot you were my maid. I shall have to call 
 you Babette. Well, Babette, you may come 
 and help me, please. I 'm going to begin at the 
 very beginning." 
 
 In ten minutes, Miss Norris, dressed in a 
 pale blue silk peignoir, sat in bed propped up 
 against lace-trimmed pillows, sipping chocolate 
 and nibbling crisp French croissons and hothouse 
 strawberries. Half an hour later, tubbed, and 
 emitting a fresh odor of violet, clad in a dis- 
 
 [ J 93]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 tracting lace Iiseuse y she was gazing into the 
 mirror of the low dressing-table, while Reba 
 loosely coiled her hair. As they laughed and 
 chattered, they were surprised into silence by 
 the sound of the doorbell. 
 
 Reba ran out into the hall, to return with a 
 huge box, which when opened showed, beneath 
 layers of tissue paper and damp cotton-wool, 
 a magnificent mass of white roses and violets. 
 Miss Norris uttered an exclamation of delight, 
 but Reba recalled her to her high-bred pose 
 with a glance of comic gravity. 
 
 At nine o'clock, Reba admitted a manicure 
 girl, who kept Miss Norris amused for an hour 
 until a hairdresser appeared. While these wo 
 men were in the apartment, her demeanor was 
 dignified in the extreme, though her languid, 
 bored tone was at variance with the sparkling 
 light that danced in her blue eyes, as she ordered 
 her Babette on little useless errands, or gossiped 
 patronizingly. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, she began the serious work 
 of the forenoon. This consisted in reclining 
 amidst a foam of laces upon a wide couch, and 
 tasting, page by page, the score of new books 
 which Reba brought in from the library table. 
 [ 194]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 As her amateur maid fluttered to and fro, chat 
 tering with a dainty French accent and com 
 menting upon the apartment, Miss Norris 
 coquetted with two or three volumes at a time, 
 raising her eyes occasionally to gaze as if in a 
 dream at the tapestries, the pictures, the carved 
 furniture, all of which were blended into a pat 
 tern of rich dull tones, her glance stopping 
 where, behind a shimmering glass and silver 
 screen, an open fire twinkled. 
 
 At one o'clock, Miss Norris, dressed in a 
 trailing green velvet suit, so smart that it dis 
 tracted her attention from the luncheon, sat in 
 silent state in the dining-room, attended by 
 two obsequious servants. She was almost suc 
 cessful in not showing her awe of them. 
 
 After a deliciously idle hour, Reba appeared 
 with a fur-lined leather automobile-coat, and 
 announced that Miss Norris's motor-car was 
 waiting below. The two descended to the street ; 
 and here the dream shifted to visions of snowy 
 pavements and noble houses swimming by, 
 vistas of park and river, whizzing cars like their 
 own which raced with them or dashed past, 
 high-stepping horses, and richly furred ladies ; 
 and through this turbulent joy, always the 
 
 [^95]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 broad manly back of a silent chauffeur in front 
 of them, who never turned or spoke. They 
 came back tingling with the cold and enlivened 
 with the fresh air, to find tea set out in a silver 
 service before the blazing fire. At seven o'clock, 
 it was time to dress for dinner, and Miss 
 Norris's excitement mounted at the thought 
 of her approaching guest. 
 
 She was ready early, in a princess gown of 
 black chiffon over cloth- of-gold, with medal 
 lions of black lace butterflies and a string of 
 large pearls. 
 
 " Babette," she asked, " would you think I 'd 
 ever been a kindergartner and talked about 
 cubes and spheres, and sung c Thumbs and fin 
 gers say good-morning ' ? If there 's the slight 
 est trace of Froebel about me at this moment, 
 I want you to tell me." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said Reba prettily, " I have 
 not a long time seen some one so charrrming 
 as you ! " 
 
 Exactly at eight o'clock the hall bell rang. 
 Miss Norris's hand closed tightly upon her 
 point-lace handkerchief. Reba patted her on the 
 cheek, and then pirouetted airily to the door 
 and threw it open. 
 [196]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 A young man in evening dress appeared 
 upon the threshold. He was light haired and 
 brown eyed, with a square face, cleanly shaven 
 and strong featured, which cracked into droll 
 wrinkles when he smiled. His voice had just 
 enough of New England nasal drawl to give 
 to every remark he made a slightly humorous 
 effect. 
 
 " Does Miss Norris live here ? " he asked. 
 
 " Mademoiselle is awaiting you in ze draw 
 ing-room." 
 
 She took his hat and coat and led the way, 
 announcing him as " Mr. Merryng." Then 
 she retired, leaving the two alone. 
 
 Reba was finishing the dinner which had been 
 brought in to her on a tray when Miss Norris 
 hurried into the room. 
 
 "Oh, Reba," she exclaimed, " he 's perfectly 
 lovely ! I had n't any idea a man could be so 
 sweet and so strong at the same time. And do 
 you know he is the author of ' The Newer 
 Eden* ? Don't you remember that little book 
 of poems I always keep on my desk ? Think 
 of it ! He did n't tell me, either, until I acci 
 dentally found it out. I happened to quote two 
 
 [197]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 or three lines, and you should have seen him 
 blush ! Did you ever see a man blush, Reba? 
 It's the most amusing thing! And he is so 
 sympathetic and chivalrous, and he understands 
 everything. It 's almost like talking to another 
 woman." 
 
 As she spoke, she had turned to the mirror 
 and stood rearranging her hair with nervous 
 uplifted hands, although Reba's keen eyes saw 
 that Miss Norris was too excited and pre 
 occupied to realize quite what she was doing 
 or saying. 
 
 " We got on like two trotting horses," she 
 continued. " You know how their hoof-beats 
 sometimes are all mixed up and then suddenly 
 they fall into the same rhythmic pace ? You 
 must hear him talk, Reba. Listen I '11 ring 
 for you to bring in a scarf for my neck, and you 
 stay round as long as you can." She fluttered 
 happily out of the room. 
 
 Reba now flew into a bustle of activity. 
 There was a large trunk in the dressing-closet 
 which she went to first of all and threw open, 
 removing the trays. The bottom she filled 
 with the slippers that paved the closet. Above 
 these she packed, one after the other, the walk- 
 [198]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 ing-suit that Miss Norris had worn to the 
 hotel, the blue silk peignoir, the lace liseuse y 
 the green velvet, and the automobile-coat. One 
 whole tray was devoted to a long, plethoric 
 pale-blue feather boa, to numberless scarves, to 
 boxes of silk stockings and lace handkerchiefs. 
 Into the many compartments of the top tray 
 went the intricate delicacies of the toilet which 
 had filled the bathroom and covered the dress 
 ing-table. As she was stealing into the library 
 for the new books, she heard the bell ring, and 
 hurried guiltily back, to emerge, sedate and 
 prim, to answer the summons. 
 
 Miss Norris was leaning forward in an old 
 high-backed chair, her eyes following Merryng 
 as he paced up and down the drawing-room, 
 talking earnestly. He stopped for a moment 
 as the maid entered. 
 
 " Babette," said Miss Norris, " I wish you 'd 
 fetch me a scarf for my shoulders and bring in 
 those roses from the dining-room, please." 
 
 When Reba returned, Mr. Merryng did not 
 pause in his conversation, and as she busied 
 herself for a moment at the table, he was say 
 ing: 
 
 " It 's so wonderful to find out that there are 
 
 [ J 99]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 women in the world like you. I never met one 
 before to whom I could talk as impersonally as 
 to a man, and who had all the sympathy of a 
 woman besides. Why, I Ve told you things that 
 I Ve never dared mention to any one else ! " 
 
 " I think I do understand you, perhaps," 
 Miss Norris answered, " and I would like to 
 help you and encourage you. It's a strange 
 way we Ve come together, is n't it ? Rather 
 like a beatified practical joke." 
 
 "It 's no joke to me," said Merryng warmly. 
 
 " Such a thing can happen only once," she 
 went on. " Let us make the most of it and the 
 best of it this evening, for our lives are far 
 apart. This is but a chance meeting of two 
 roaming souls, and after to-night we must pass 
 on according to our orbits." 
 
 "But why?" he demanded. "Why not con 
 tinue, now that we have found each other ? " 
 
 Reba heard no more, having loitered in the 
 room as long as was decently possible ; she re 
 turned to resume her clandestine packing. 
 When it was finished, she took a tag from her 
 satchel and wrote upon it the address, " Miss 
 Ella Norris, 180 East Twenty- Fourth Street." 
 This she fastened to the handle of the trunk. 
 [ 200 ]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 Then she opened a door into the hall and stood 
 for a moment listening. Mr. Merryng's voice 
 was heard rising and falling in smooth cadences 
 as he repeated flowing stanza after stanza, Miss 
 Norris stopping him occasionally for apprecia 
 tion or criticism. 
 
 Ten o'clock struck on the melodious chimes 
 of the hall clock. The hour progressed, heralded 
 by the music of the quarter chimes, to eleven 
 o'clock and half past. Then the maid's bell tin 
 kled, and Reba went into the drawing-room. 
 
 The light from the great lamp illuminated 
 the two as they sat side by side upon the couch, 
 their heads together over a note-book which 
 Merry ng was showing Miss Norris. 
 
 " I suppose that 's the way it comes, usually," 
 he was saying. "Some accidental incident or 
 suggestion occurs to me, and I put it down 
 here, as I have put your name and the date. 
 There 's no knowing when I shall come back 
 to it, but I 'm pretty sure to find it has grown 
 in the dark to a perfect poem." He put the 
 note-book in his pocket and rose. " Well," he 
 said, " if you are inexorable, and if we must part 
 forever, I suppose the time has come." 
 
 " Any meeting after this is bound to be an 
 
 [201]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 anti-climax," Miss Norris replied. "We 've had 
 a wonderful experience to-night. Let's end it 
 artistically. Babette, have you packed my dress 
 ing-bag? Then get me my sable cloak and 
 telephone down to the office to have two foot- 
 warmers put in the carriage. I 'm going to put 
 Mr. Merryng down at his rooms on my way to 
 the Johnsons'." She turned to Mr. Merryng 
 again. " Oh, the Johnsons are so stupid," she 
 said. " I wish I did n't have to go there to 
 night. There 's a young man there who bores 
 me to death. I hope I won't have to have any 
 thing to do with him." 
 
 Reba returned, helped Miss Norris on with 
 her furs, and the party left the apartment, Miss 
 Norris casting one last pathetic look behind. A 
 brougham was awaiting them at the door, and 
 Miss Norris stepped lightly in. 
 
 " I shall send the carriage right back for you 
 after I get to the Johnsons', Babette. Mr. Mer 
 ryng, just give the driver your address, please," 
 and she sank back into the cushions. 
 
 Mr. Merryng went up to the man on the 
 box. " Drive to 1 80 East Twenty-Fourth 
 Street," he said. Then stepping in beside Miss 
 Norris, he slammed the door. 
 [ 202 ]
 
 A Christmas Cinderella 
 
 For a moment after the carriage had driven 
 away, Reba stood on the sidewalk, the dimples 
 rioting in her cheeks, her lids half closed in 
 merriment. 
 
 " 1 80 East Twenty-Fourth Street the 
 Johnsons' lodging-house ! " she repeated to 
 herself. " Poor, dear Cinderella ! At midnight 
 your coach will have turned to a pumpkin and 
 all your clothes to rags your prince will have 
 found you out ! But I don't think you '11 care, 
 for his name is Curdie, and he will rescue you 
 from the goblins with his rhymes."
 
 VII 
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 IT was not in the East Side tenement districts 
 that Miss Million preferred to work. She 
 was for less obvious local color, for experi 
 ments with persons more nearly of her own sort. 
 It was her maxim that " Spend helps Save, and 
 Save helps Scrimp, and Scrimp helps Suffer, and 
 Suffer helps Starve " charity, in a word, to be 
 effective, cannot well skip classes ; it must come 
 from those nearly allied in experience all charity, 
 that is, which is not institutional. 
 
 How wise she was, these adventures may show. 
 Hers was, it is true, "sentimental charity " // 
 /'/ were charity at all. She herself preferred to 
 consider it as pure adventure, and the assistance 
 she rendered as merely the modus operandi of ro 
 mance. To stand as a little sister of Destiny 
 that was her game; and I think she played it well, 
 and few millionaires have, I think, in simple, hon 
 est enjoyment, got such worth for their money. 
 
 I myself helped, perhaps, less in this than in 
 
 [205]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 most other adventures, but still I was by no means 
 idle. For a while I occupied a room in the boarding- 
 house, and was privileged to watch her, as a ser 
 vant, bring the house into subjection. She was the 
 true Princess in disguise, and played her part with 
 out suspicion. Old Mrs. Peterborough and I 
 watched her as she watched the others, with tears, 
 sometimes, in our eyes. You may think of her or 
 not as the heroine of the tale, but to me, as goddess 
 from the machine, she truly, as the actors say, 
 " created a part"
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 THERE was a large and a small table in 
 the dining-room of the boarding-house. 
 The large one was usually filled with 
 perfect examples of well-known types. There 
 was the dowager with the silken thorax, plus jet 
 trimmings, the thin, anaemic, affable, wise young 
 man with the high forehead; there was the vo 
 luptuous widowette, placidly flirtatious. The 
 small table held, with some good-natured crowd 
 ing, the select coterie of the house Miss 
 Meadows and the Three. The real names of 
 the Three do not matter, for Cicely the maid 
 had, early in her acquaintance, nicknamed them 
 Shem, Ham, and Japheth. For them and for 
 Miss Meadows Cicely did extra-official service 
 in all ways and sundry. 
 
 The boarders at the large table took it for 
 granted that they would receive a clean serviette 
 and a new tablecloth at each meal. They made 
 no comments upon the silver service, or the 
 stationery in the library. They accepted their 
 fresh linen sheets, their thick, tender steaks, 
 
 [ 2 7]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 the flowers, and the two bath-towels a day as a 
 matter of course as they accepted indulgent, 
 white-haired Mrs. Peterborough for their land 
 lady. They recommended the place to their 
 friends patronizingly, and were often surprised 
 to have them rejected upon what seemed to be 
 trivial grounds. 
 
 The Three and Miss Meadows, however, 
 were more sapient. They were aware of the 
 fact that they were occupants of a remarkable 
 boarding-house. Few places, as Shem pointed 
 out, provided, gratis, such cigars, after dinner, 
 as Mrs. Peterborough's " Flor de Million." 
 Ham knew well that the inhabitant of the ordi 
 nary hall bedroom seldom found himself treated 
 to boot-trees and coat-hangers. Japheth had 
 never before heard of seven dollars a week in 
 cluding electric night-lights by which one could 
 read comfortably at all hours. As for Miss 
 Meadows, she was loud and jubilant in her 
 praises of the violet water, the bath-herbs, the 
 sacheted dress-hangers, the tape towels, and the 
 cheval-glass with which her room was furnished. 
 These phenomena were the subject of much 
 futile conjecture at the small table, the inevitable 
 result being that Miss Meadows and the Three 
 [208]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 would congratulate one another, and knock the 
 under side of the mahogany, lest their good 
 luck should fly away. 
 
 Miss Meadows was a tall, statuesque, impe 
 rious, golden-haired, blue-eyed creature, well 
 dressed, well kept, well poised, and perfectly 
 aware of her own powers to charm. She occu 
 pied a front room on the second floor, where, 
 for at least four hours every day, her typewriter 
 could be heard intermittently, as she ground 
 out the verses and short humorous articles for 
 which she was becoming well known to magazine 
 readers. Everything about Miss Meadows was 
 finished, graceful, and dainty, from her nails 
 and eyebrows to her vers de soci'et'e. Yet she had 
 higher aspirations than those satisfied by the 
 comic muse, and when her day's routine was 
 done, she took up more earnestly her conscien 
 tious grind upon a novel which she hoped would 
 some day give her serious consideration among 
 critics. But she found herself often so lacking 
 in knowledge and skill that she was wont to 
 appear at dinner discouraged if not defeated by 
 her task. 
 
 " I can't do it," she would say to Cicely, 
 almost every evening, and Cicely would inev- 
 
 [ 209]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 itably answer, " You can do it, and you 've got 
 to do it, Miss Meadows !" 
 
 Cicely herself had no such ambitions, and 
 was content to go on from day to day with her 
 table service and housework. Every one liked 
 Cicely, and by reason of her interminable inter 
 est and sympathy and her never-failing willing 
 ness to listen, she had wheedled herself into 
 the confidence of every one in the house. She 
 was a petite, dimpling, smiling girl of twenty- 
 three, with hazel eyes, the prettiest and trim 
 mest of figures, and hands whose delicacy and 
 grace were extraordinary for one of her station. 
 Rumor had it that she was distantly related to 
 Mrs. Peterborough ; at any rate, her domestic 
 attentions in the boarders' rooms, and her fa 
 miliar engaging presence in the hall and din 
 ing-room, gradually made her regarded as a 
 confidential ally rather than as a servant. Even 
 Miss Meadows, the imperious, proud beauty, 
 had graciously condescended to bestow a sort 
 of intimacy upon little Cicely the maid. 
 
 Miss Meadows was indeed somewhat in need 
 
 of a confidante, for proud as she was, she was not 
 
 the sort of young woman who could long endure 
 
 the attentions of three suitors without talking 
 
 [210]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 it over with some one. Propinquity was play 
 ing its customary part at the little table in the 
 dining-room ; and the young author, having 
 been, so to speak, owned by a syndicate, would 
 apparently soon have to choose one among 
 them for her future manager. She had alluded 
 to herself as "Miss Meadows, Limited," but 
 she could not carry that joke much farther. 
 Shem, Ham, and Japheth were already showing 
 signs of restlessness, and there was a suppressed 
 rivalry evident. Miss Meadows's tact had been 
 put to a severe test to maintain an equality of 
 favors. 
 
 " But don't you really know which one 
 you care for most ? " Cicely ventured to inquire 
 one morning, as she dusted Miss Meadows's 
 room. 
 
 " Well, I like Shem, because he wears a 
 smooth shaven face and has a sense of humor ; 
 but when he helps me on with my coat, he keeps 
 his cigar in his mouth. Ham does have a mus 
 tache, but he never tilts his hat on the back 
 of his head. I hate Japheth's pointed beard, 
 but of course he 's a dear. They 're all nice, in 
 their way." 
 
 " Still, there must be one unless there 's 
 
 [211]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 some one else," said Cicely. " / know who 's 
 the best, I 'm sure." 
 
 " There 's no one else, and I know who you 
 mean, but somehow I 'm never sure. I 'm like 
 the princess in the fairy tale. I 'd like to put 
 them to some test, to be sure I got the right 
 one. I don't want to marry any one yet, but 
 I 'd like to see them each in some crisis. Per 
 haps the best test would be for them to be 
 successful. Most people can stand failure or 
 bad luck, but good fortune tells the story of 
 character better, I think." 
 
 Cicely listened, as usual, with a curious quiet, 
 bird-like attention, and a smile that half closed 
 her eyes and deepened the dimples in her cheeks. 
 Miss Meadows went on with her typewriting. 
 Cicely still watched her ; then, when the room 
 was in order, she ran upstairs to talk to Mrs. 
 Peterborough. 
 
 
 
 That night Japheth called upon Miss Mea 
 dows in her room. Japheth's blue eyes, pointed 
 beard, and fine dark hair, thinning over his tem 
 ples, did not differentiate him obviously from 
 others of his type. In a company one did not 
 notice him at first, but he could not be long in 
 
 [212]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 a room before one realized that he was there 
 " always on the boat with his ticket punched," 
 Shem used to say modest, strong, observant. 
 Then, one waited for his quick smile and his 
 trenchant remarks. His clothes, neat but worn 
 and a bit old fashioned in cut, showed a pathetic 
 attempt to be brave. Miss Meadows, in her 
 more magnificent moods, rather pitied him, but 
 though he talked little, he had much to give 
 her. His shyness, his tact and consideration, 
 produced a feeling of restful intimacy and con 
 fidence. He was the sort of man to whom a 
 woman would most readily go for help, sure of 
 his willingness and his judgment. Shem and 
 Ham paid Miss Meadows all the conventional 
 compliments of flowers, books, and invitations, 
 but Japheth's unobtrusive kindness filled the 
 smaller chinks of her leisure. 
 
 He waited quietly for her to complete the 
 chapter she was reading, she was enough 
 spoiled by her attentions to receive him some 
 what cavalierly, watching her spirited face as 
 it changed. Then, when she at last laid her 
 book down, he said : 
 
 " Maud, I got a raise of salary to-day at the 
 office. I 've been made head draughtsman."
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " Really ? I 'm glad they appreciate you at 
 last." 
 
 " It means a lot to me," Japheth went on. 
 " You see, I 've had to help my mother all 
 along, and this leaves me more than enough for 
 myself, now. It will give me a chance to be 
 more original in my work, too. You know I 
 have some theories in architecture." 
 
 " I suppose you '11 go abroad, as you Ve 
 always longed to. I hope you can. Italy would 
 be a great inspiration to you, just now, espe 
 cially." 
 
 "There 's only one thing I want to do more 
 than that one thing that would be more of 
 an inspiration." 
 
 " What 's that ? " She smiled good-naturedly, 
 with the lamplight striking sparks and curling 
 flames upon her hair. 
 
 " To marry you," he said as calmly. He 
 saw her face change suddenly. The smile died 
 away, and two little lines came in her forehead. 
 Then she leaned back into the shadow. 
 
 " Oh, Japheth ! " she said, " I 'm sorry you 
 
 said that ! I did n't expect it at all, and I hate 
 
 to hurt you but you must n't say anything 
 
 more about it. If I had thought of your feel- 
 
 [214]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 ing that way, I would have stopped you, but 
 it 's too late now." 
 
 "You might have seen that I was in love 
 with you long ago," he said. " And you '11 see 
 it for a long time after this. I can't stop, even 
 though I Ve spoiled it all by speaking too soon 
 
 it is n't that way with me. I shall go right 
 on loving you and thinking about you first in 
 everything." 
 
 " I hope you understand," Miss Meadows 
 said, " that I don't care for anybody that way 
 
 I don't care for anything but my novel. 
 Even if I did love any one, I would never con 
 sent to marry until I had finished it. You 
 know I Ve got to go to Colorado and live there 
 for a few months before I can get that ranch 
 chapter right. I Ve tried to fake it, and use 
 other people's descriptions, but it 's no use. 
 I Ve got to see the life myself and get an 
 original point of view." 
 
 " There are things enough to say, if I wanted 
 to try to persuade you," Japheth replied. " But 
 somehow I can't say them. ' Faint heart ne'er 
 won fair lady,' I know, but I 'm too fond of 
 you, Maud, to want you if you don't want me. 
 There 's no forcing a thing like that. It comes, 
 
 [215]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 or it doesn't, and I don't want it by halves. 
 You can ask for the things you don't want so 
 very much, but the things you really care most 
 for have to be given to you freely. I 'm glad 
 you 're so in earnest about your novel, and I 
 want you to win more than anything else 
 now. I '11 try to adjust myself to a scheme of 
 things with you left out. Good-by ! I am 
 leaving you, but you won't leave me, Maud ! " 
 He left her with a smile. 
 
 
 
 Shem was the first one down to breakfast, the 
 next day, and he came in high spirits. He was 
 jubilant and boisterous enough at all times, the 
 typical hail-fellow-well-met, with a slap on the 
 back for his men friends and a chuck under the 
 chin for Cicely. To-day he fairly bubbled. His 
 round, smiling face shone behind his spectacles, 
 and his hair was, as usual, not unattractively 
 tousled in baby curls. He had an appearance 
 of boyishness even at thirty, and though liked 
 by all, was characteristically a man's man, amus 
 ing, awkward, careless, a sort of human New 
 foundland puppy, from whose proximity one 
 carefully removed things breakable. He was an 
 advertising writer, and delighted in the slang and 
 [216]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 gossip of the town. He jumped up when Miss 
 Meadows appeared, to pull back her chair for 
 her, tipping over a glass of water in the process. 
 
 "Say, didn't I tell you this boarding-house 
 was haunted ? " he broke out. " Did n't I say it 
 was improbable and impossible ? Did you get 
 a letter this morning ? " 
 
 " Yes two rejections," said Miss Meadows. 
 
 " That 's a shame. But are you sure you 
 did n't get a long yellow envelope, typewrit 
 ten address, inclosing ten one-hundred-dollar 
 bills?" 
 
 "It 's shockingly bad form to tell your 
 dreams at the breakfast-table," said Miss Mea 
 dows, paying more attention to her egg than to 
 him. 
 
 " If it 's a dream, all I 've got to say is, don't 
 wake me up!" Shem went on. He took a ma- 
 nila envelope and passed it over to her. " I 
 wish you'd look at that and see whether I'm 
 crazy or not. Don't it beat the Child's Dream 
 of a Star for human interest ? " 
 
 Miss Meadows drew out ten new, crisp hun 
 dred-dollar bills and gazed at them in amaze 
 ment. " Where in the world did they come 
 from ? " she asked wonderingly. 
 
 [217]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " I don't know Heaven, I guess. People 
 are n't much like that down here. It looks to 
 me like the beginning of the millennium. 
 Some one has exercised rare discrimination, and 
 I ask no questions. It 's a ticket to Paradise 
 accidentally dropped by some angel." 
 
 As Cicely came up to take his order for break 
 fast, he took her hand affectionately. " Cicely," 
 he said, " I want champagne and mince pie, this 
 morning, and a whole lot of roc's eggs. I Ve 
 discovered a brand-new fairy godmother, and 
 I 'm going to see New York in the reddest 
 automobile that swims the Broadway Sea ! 
 Selah ! " 
 
 " You don't mean to say you 're going to 
 spend it right away, d6 you? " cried Miss Mea 
 dows. " How do you know but it 's some mis 
 take ? " 
 
 " I 'm going to bust a hole in at least one of 
 them," said Shem, " and I invite you to play 
 with me till the detectives arrive, Maudie. 
 That 's my name on the envelope, is n't it ? 
 There 's no doubt about it. My many virtues 
 are at last discovered by some keen-witted 
 millionaire, and I propose to be a credit to him. 
 All you have to do is to name your particular 
 [218]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 brand of theatre and restaurant, and New York 
 is yours. We'll make gladsome holiday while 
 the sun shines, if you 're not otherwise engaged 
 for the next twelve hours." 
 
 At this moment Ham came in, and sat down 
 with a nod. He was a smallish man, with pink 
 cheeks and a silky mustache, which it was his 
 custom to caress affectionately. His hair, parted 
 in the middle, was smoothly brushed and trimly 
 cut. In attire he was point-devise, speckless, 
 spotless, unwrinkled, correct, and clean. It 
 needed no great observation to name him a 
 bank clerk the very polish of his patent 
 leather shoes, the strict accuracy of his tie, and 
 his well-kept hands attested the fact. 
 
 " Would you mind pinching me, to see if 
 I 'm awake ? " was his first remark to Shem. 
 
 "You don't mean to say thatjy<? 've received 
 one, too!" Miss Meadows exclaimed, with a 
 shade of envy in her voice. 
 
 He looked up in surprise, then down at the 
 envelope beside Shem's plate. " What does it 
 all mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " Then your rich uncle in Patagonia has dis 
 covered you, too ? " Shem remarked gayly. 
 
 " It certainly looks that way," Ham replied. 
 
 [219]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " I don't mind saying I 'm rather frightened. 
 What are we supposed to do, anyway ? " 
 
 "Take it like a man!" said Shem. "If any 
 one 's trying to play horse with me, I '11 give 
 him a run for his money ! " 
 
 "Where do I come in?" inquired Miss 
 Meadows regretfully. 
 
 " You come right in on the front seat with 
 me, while the roll lasts," was Shem's enthusias 
 tic answer. 
 
 " I have thought of putting this in the 
 bank till I see if there are any further develop 
 ments," said Ham. "There must be some kind 
 of a condition to this. I don't see how I can 
 consider the money mine until I know more 
 about it. If I deposit it, I '11 be on the safe 
 side, whatever happens. One can't be too 
 careful." 
 
 " I wonder if Japheth got a letter too," said 
 Miss Meadows. 
 
 As Cicely came up, she asked, " Cicely, is 
 Japheth up yet? " 
 
 Cicely paused at the little table long enough 
 
 to say, " Why, what d' you think ! Japheth left 
 
 the house half an hour ago, and told me to pack 
 
 his trunk for him. He told me to say good-by 
 
 [220]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 to you all he was sorry he did n't have time 
 to see you again." 
 
 Shem whistled. " Foxy Japheth ! He is n't 
 going to waste his, celebrating with his friends ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Ham, " he must have got one, 
 all right. I would n't have thought he would 
 treat us that way, though ! Skinflint ! " 
 
 Miss Meadows's face showed a look of dis 
 tress. She bit her lip. Then she straightened 
 herself and said, " Japheth has a right to do 
 as he pleases, I 'm sure. There must be some 
 good reason for his going so suddenly. You 
 don't know that he got any money, after all ! " 
 
 " Cicely ! " called Ham, " come over here a 
 moment. Cicely, did Japheth get a letter like 
 this in the mail to-day ? " 
 
 Cicely looked him straight in the eyes. 
 " Mrs. Peterborough has told me I 'm to know 
 as little as possible about the boarders' mail," 
 she said. " There 's only one thing she 's par 
 ticular about in the house, and that 's gossip." 
 
 She moved away unconcernedly. Miss Mea 
 dows smiled faintly, and played with her glass. 
 The two men looked silly. 
 
 "That's right," said Shem finally. "It's 
 none of our business. All the same, I 'm dis- 
 
 [221]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 appointed. Can I see you in a little while, 
 Maud ? " Miss Meadows nodded, and Shem 
 left the table. 
 
 As soon as he had left, Ham dropped his 
 voice and began to speak to her with a new 
 seriousness. As he spoke, Miss Meadows, still 
 abstracted, fingered her glass. 
 
 " Maud," said Ham, " I 've got to say some 
 thing now, while I have the chance. This thing 
 has made a tremendous difference in my pros 
 pects. I know just where I can put a thousand 
 dollars to best possible advantage, and I 'm 
 going to do it. If all goes well, it will be 
 doubled before long, and then there 's one thing 
 more I want to invest in and that 's a wife. 
 I can't stand this syndicate business any longer. 
 I 'm in love with you, Maud, and I want to 
 marry you. I would have told you any way, 
 in a little while, as soon as I was sure I had the 
 right to ask, but this good luck settles it. I 
 hope you 're fond of me. You see what these 
 other fellows are like, now. One is a happy- 
 go-lucky, extravagant chap, and the other is a 
 stingy sneak." 
 
 " How dare you say that ? " cried Miss 
 Meadows. "Only yesterday you called your- 
 [ 222 ]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 self his friend, and now you suspect him of the 
 worst possible motives." 
 
 " Don't you ? " Ham asked, coldly. 
 
 The tears were already visible in her eyes, 
 and she did not answer. 
 
 " Well, we '11 leave him out of the question," 
 said Ham. " I 'm sorry I showed any jealousy, 
 but I want you terribly. Just because I don't 
 spill over myself, like Shem, and make a scene 
 about you, you must n't think I 'm not in 
 earnest. You 're the girl I want, and I must 
 have you. I 'd be so happy with you, and so 
 proud of you, as my wife. Our tastes are really 
 alike, and you 'd be through with this stewing 
 over a typewriter and never getting anywhere. 
 You 're working yourself to death, and it 's all 
 nonsense for a girl like you to have to support 
 herself. I 'm able and willing now to do all 
 that for you. I love you, Maud, and I hate to 
 see you eating your heart out in a boarding- 
 house bedroom. You 're too young and good 
 and pretty for that ! " 
 
 " I 'd never give up writing, at any rate," 
 Maud declared. " It means too much to me. 
 Oh, you don't understand ! I must finish my 
 novel before I think of anything else. I Ve got 
 
 [223]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 hold of something too big for me, but I 'm 
 determined to win." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " Ham was patronizingly in 
 dulgent. "You'll get over all that. What you 
 need is a home of your own and some one to 
 take care of you. A woman's place is in the 
 home, and that 's where she 's happiest. As my 
 wife you 'd have good society and good clothes, 
 and a husband who 'd be too proud of you to 
 let you bang a typewriter." 
 
 " Don't ask me yet ! " Miss Meadows im 
 plored him. " Not here, not now, at any rate ! 
 Give me two weeks, at least ! " 
 
 She arose, flushing deeply, and went upstairs. 
 She had not been there long before Cicely 
 tapped on the door, and came in, laden with 
 fresh linen. Miss Meadows put her arms about 
 the maid's waist. 
 
 "Oh, Cicely," she pleaded, "you 've just got 
 to tell me ! I must know about it ! I can't 
 stand it ! I know it 's base and undignified, but 
 it means so much to me. You will tell me if 
 Japheth got one of those letters, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, he did. I took it up to his room, my 
 self. It was just like the others," said Cicely. 
 
 Miss Meadows threw herself down on the 
 [224]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 bed, while Cicely tried in vain to comfort her. 
 " Oh, he was the one, after all, was n't he, Miss 
 Meadows ? Of course I suspected it all the 
 time. You 'd best forget all about him. He 
 is n't worth worrying about, in my opinion." 
 
 Miss Meadows bathed her eyes, and sat 
 down to her typewriter doggedly. After Cicely 
 had left, she heard Shem's lusty voice outside 
 the door, demanding entrance. A look in the 
 glass, a quick readjustment of her hair, a pull 
 at the curtain to shade the room, and she let 
 him in. 
 
 Shem's spirits had not yet flagged. He held 
 a sheet of paper in his hand as he sat down. 
 
 " Here 's my schedule," he announced. 
 " I Ve been thinking this fairy tale over, and 
 I stack it up this way : whoever was drunk 
 enough to assist Fate and Destiny in this way, 
 did n't intend me to invest a thousand dollars 
 in foreign missions or contribute to the hos 
 pitals. If he 'd had the charity bug, he 'd have 
 sent the money to some one else besides Hand 
 some Shem, the Joyful Spender. What he, or 
 she, or it wanted, was evidently to cast a ray of 
 sunshine into some heart that knew how to take 
 a thousand plunks' worth of solid happiness, in 
 
 [225]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 one gorgeous hunk. This is the way I propose 
 to make good. Behold ! " 
 
 He read from his schedule : " Hansom cab 
 to the Bronx Zoo and return to the St. Regis 
 for a twenty-seven dollar lunch. Automobile 
 in the afternoon through the Park, stopping at 
 way stations. Dinner at Sherry's, with assorted 
 friends. Box party to Mrs. Fiske's latest his 
 trionic sermon, and home via Rector's and the 
 Cafe Boulevard." 
 
 " Do you know," he added, "it's a lot harder 
 work to spend money than I thought. I 'm 
 afraid my list is a little conventional, but with 
 a few stops at jewelers', perhaps I can run it 
 up to a decent figure. You '11 help me out, won't 
 you, Maud?" 
 
 " I really ought to work, Shem " 
 
 " Oh, this will do you good, and you '11 get 
 lots of material. I '11 ring for a cab while you 
 put on your things." 
 
 " Maud 's the hardest girl to spend money 
 on I ever saw," Shem announced to Cicely, as 
 she lingered by their table to hear of the day's 
 doings. " She was forever economizing and tak 
 ing street-cars when cabs would have done just 
 [ 226]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 as well. I don't know how I would have finished 
 that hundred, if it had n't been for her lust for 
 literature. That 's where I had her. She could n't 
 resist Henry James, and a row of minor poets 
 made a very respectable hole in that first bill. 
 Next time, I 'm going to think it out better. 
 And say, Cissy, there was a red auto trailing us 
 about all day. I saw it four or five times, and 
 there was a girl in gray in it that might have 
 been your sister, as well as I could see for her 
 goggles. What have you been doing, anyway ? " 
 
 " Oh, I 've taken a day off, too," said Cicely. 
 " I had some important business to attend to, 
 and Mrs. Peterborough let me go." 
 
 Shem handed over ten dollars. "Next time 
 you get off, Cicely, you get in and enjoy your 
 self, will you ? Make believe you 're the girl 
 in gray, and do it well ! " 
 
 "Thank you, I shall. I have a gray suit 
 myself," said Cicely. 
 
 Miss Meadows worked next day as she had 
 not worked for weeks, and, late in the afternoon, 
 she called Cicely in to listen to what had been 
 written. It was a favorite experiment, founded 
 on Dean Swift's advice, for Miss Meadows re 
 garded Cicely as a good example of the Average 
 
 [227]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 Reader. After the day 's installment had been 
 discussed, the talk became more personal. 
 
 " Have you made up your mind yet ? " Cicely 
 asked. 
 
 " How can I, Cicely ? Shem is such a dear, 
 and so generous, that no one can help being fond 
 of him. He has kept me laughing for two days ; 
 but Ham is so much more in earnest, and really 
 knows what 's what. But a man ought to have 
 both prudence and impulsiveness." 
 
 " Japheth has both," said Cicely. 
 
 " Japheth 's out of the question, now, I 'm 
 afraid. I believe he 's gone abroad. It 's a 
 question between Shem and Ham." 
 
 " Three little nigger boys, walking in the Zoo, 
 The big bear hugged one, and then there were two ! " 
 
 Cicely chanted. 
 
 " Cicely," said Miss Meadows, " where do 
 you suppose all that money came from? It's 
 astonishing ! It 's positively uncanny ! I feel 
 as if some one were experimenting in a new, 
 strange way ! There 's always been something 
 queer about this house even you y re queer, 
 Cicely ; you 're not at all the sort of person one 
 usually finds for a waitress and chambermaid 
 you 're too pretty, you 're too intelligent. 
 [228]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 But who could have so much money to spend 
 on such an experiment?" 
 
 " Oh, probably some one with more money 
 than he wants is merely amusing himself with 
 the boys. It's exactly what I 'd do, if I could 
 afford it would n't you ? Or, perhaps, it 's 
 some one who has taken a fancy to you, and 
 wants to help you to make up your mind." 
 
 " I don't want to make up my mind," said 
 Miss Meadows bitterly. " I only want to fin 
 ish my novel ! " 
 
 Next morning, while Miss Meadows was 
 sipping her coffee, the two young men came in 
 together. Shem was buoyant, as usual, with a 
 button off his coat, Ham calm, dignified, and 
 immaculate. 
 
 " The lightning has struck again in the same 
 place," Shem announced. " I don't know where 
 this thing 's going to end. I shall have to cut 
 off my little finger to propitiate the gods. It 's 
 too much luck ! I don't dare go down town to 
 day for fear of missing something in the eleven 
 o'clock mail." 
 
 " Did you get another thousand ? " Miss 
 Meadows cried. 
 
 [ 229]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " That 's what I did ! Upper Fifth Avenue 
 for mine, if this keeps up ! I can stand it as 
 long as my anonymous friend can." 
 
 "And did you receive yours, too?" Miss 
 Meadows asked Ham. 
 
 Ham looked sober and a bit embarrassed. 
 " I 'm afraid I Ve dropped out of the game. 
 1 must have offended the Fates in some way." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so sorry ! " she said. " I can't 
 imagine why you were left out." 
 
 Shem, in consideration of Ham's confession, 
 forbore to give further vent to his delight, 
 and the three finished their meal constrainedly. 
 After Miss Meadows had gone upstairs, and 
 had been working for some time, Cicely knocked, 
 and came in with her eyes dancing. 
 
 " Miss Meadows," she said, " there is some 
 thing queer about this house, as you said. 
 Ham has up and left, too. He packed his 
 trunk before breakfast, and has left word with 
 me to have his mail forwarded by a messenger." 
 
 " Why, he did n't say anything to me about 
 going" Miss Meadows began. " I can't un 
 derstand it." 
 
 " I think I can," said Cicely. " He got one 
 of those yellow envelopes this morning."
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 "He said he didn't!" Miss Meadows ex 
 claimed in surprise. 
 
 " That gives us an interesting side-light on 
 his character, does n't it ? " Cicely smiled till her 
 eyes were half closed, and then sang merrily, 
 
 " Two little nigger boys, sitting in the sun, 
 One got frizzled up, and then there was one ! " 
 
 The immediate effect of Shem's second 
 windfall was to make him unexpectedly pru 
 dent. He made no attempt, this time, to cele 
 brate his good luck, but went as usual to the 
 office. He manifested, also, an extraordinary 
 inclination to " settle down," and spent several 
 evenings in Miss Meadows's room, expounding 
 his views of the quiet life, love in a cottage, 
 bread and cheese and kisses, and so on, all amus 
 ing to Miss Meadows, who had, heretofore, 
 known only the breezy, adventurous side of his 
 nature. She grew to like him more and more in 
 this character, however, and looked forward to 
 the hours when his semi-humorous philosophy 
 of content would bring a pleasant, comfortable 
 peace to her tired brain. Then he began skip 
 ping a meal occasionally, and she found that she 
 missed his jocund face and his vivacious slang. 
 
 [231 ]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 A week passed, and she had not seen him 
 except during his hurried breakfasts at the little 
 round table, where, so often, she had to eat 
 alone, when, one evening, he paid her a visit in 
 her room. 
 
 " I guess Fate has gone out of the miracle 
 business," he said, throwing himself on the 
 couch. " The thousand-dollar flurry seems to 
 be about over. It 's just as well, I suppose ; one 
 more installment would have made a miser of 
 me. Funny what poison money is, is n't it ? 
 It 's taken all the starch out of me. Before our 
 mysterious friend began to fool with my des 
 tiny, I was a simple, joyous soul, and it took 
 little to make me happy. The world was mine 
 for three dollars and a half. There was charm 
 in the drama, madness in music, wealth, health, 
 and happiness in wine ; and a good, old-fash 
 ioned time with the boys was all I knew of 
 heaven. Now behold me, Maud, descended to 
 the vulgar ideals of the commonplace. I don't 
 want an automobile or a yacht. I want a seven- 
 room flat ! I 've a wild desire to nail down car 
 pets and hang up pictures. I 'm domesticated 
 to the level of the most ordinary commuter. 
 Maud, don't faint when I tell you, don't say 
 [ 2 3 2 ]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 it 's too sudden to be true, but the one yearn 
 of my existence is now to see a pair of little No. 
 2 A shoes beside mine on the fender, of an 
 evening, if we can afford a fender, and have 
 somebody with a red-hot steak ready for me at 
 six o'clock. I 've sunk as low as that. What 
 d' you think?" 
 
 Miss Meadows had shown signs of agitation, 
 and now she forced a smile. " Oh, I can't be 
 lieve it ! You '11 get over this mood in a week." 
 
 " In a week," said Shem, folding his arms, 
 and cocking his head on one side, " I shall be 
 married to a girl I 've known ever since I 
 wore kilts, and never knew I loved till last 
 night. I 've had symptoms before, but this is 
 a real case. I am certainly going to commit 
 matrimony with malice aforethought, Maud, 
 so congratulate me! " 
 
 She had recovered her composure at the first 
 hint, and now held out her hand cordially. " I 
 do ! " she said. " But I 'm sorry to lose you, 
 for I suppose you '11 be leaving soon." 
 
 "To-morrow so good-by, Maud, and do 
 come round and see me take the fatal plunge. 
 I '11 send you word when and where and how." 
 
 ........ 
 
 [ 2 33]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 The next day Miss Meadows breakfasted 
 alone at the little round table. She had arisen 
 late, and was in no mood for work. So she dal 
 lied with her egg and coffee listlessly, or traced 
 figures upon the tablecloth with her spoon, un 
 conscious of the lapse of time. No one would 
 have known her for the imperious, self-satisfied, 
 spoiled beauty of two weeks ago. 
 
 Cicely came up with her perennial smile. 
 
 " One little nigger boy, living all alone, 
 He got married, and then there was none ! ' ' 
 
 she warbled. "Well," she added, "I do hope 
 the person who 's been meddling with the affairs 
 of this house is satisfied now ! The last inter 
 esting man is gone, and you 're not married off 
 yet, Miss Meadows. But there may be more 
 chances. Perhaps your turn will come next." 
 
 " I 'm afraid my turn has come and gone," 
 was the moody answer. 
 
 " Why, I did n't know but that you got some 
 good news in that letter I put under your door 
 this morning," said Cicely, in some surprise. 
 
 " I did n't see any letter ! I was thinking 
 about something so hard that probably I didn't 
 notice it." 
 
 " Do let me get it for you, then," said Cicely ; 
 [ 2 34 ]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 and, as Miss Meadows went on with her break 
 fast, the little maid nimbly ran upstairs, to re 
 turn soon with an envelope. Miss Meadows 
 opened it with her fork, looked in, and then 
 turned an excited face to the waitress. 
 
 " Cicely," she exclaimed, " it is money ! I do 
 believe it 's going to happen to me, too, after 
 all ! Is n't it perfectly lovely ! Look ! One, 
 two, three, four, six, eight, ten hundred dollars ! 
 Oh, Cicely, I want to scream ! " 
 
 Cicely smiled calmly. " It must be nice to 
 get so much money," was all she said ; but 
 there was no trace of envy upon her face. 
 
 " Oh, I wishjy0# Vget some, too ! " said Miss 
 Meadows. " If I only knew who sent this, I 'd 
 ask them to remember you you 've been so 
 dear to all of us ! " 
 
 " It would n't do any good," Cicely said, se 
 riously now ; " the person who sent you that 
 money has precious little more to give away." 
 
 Miss Meadows looked up in astonishment. 
 "Why, have you any idea who sent this ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, I have. It 's from some one who wants 
 you to use it for your trip out West, so that you 
 can finish your novel and become famous." 
 
 [ 2 35]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I was told. You see, the one who sent 
 it did n't want to be thanked, and does n't 
 want you to feel under the slightest obligation. 
 You 're to use this money only for that especial 
 purpose." 
 
 "Tell me who it is!" 
 
 " I promised not to, Miss Meadows, but I 
 can tell you this: there's a ranch in the Red 
 River Valley, in Colorado, where you '11 find 
 just exactly the material you want. It 's owned 
 by a Mr. Oscar Jefferson, and his wife will 
 board you. He has plenty of horses, and 
 he can talk. You take the D. & R. G. from 
 Denver to Calhoun, and from there by stage 
 to Grisly Peak. When you decide to come, 
 Mr. Jefferson will meet you at the Florodora 
 Hotel." 
 
 Miss Meadows looked straight into Cicely's 
 eyes. " Cicely," she said, " there 's only one per 
 son in the world who would go to such pains to 
 find all that out for me, and that person must 
 have sent me this money." 
 
 " I promised not to tell, and I must keep 
 my word, this time," Cicely said, stoutly. 
 
 " That one person," Miss Meadows went 
 [236]
 
 Not to Speak of Cicely 
 
 on, and her voice broke queerly as she spoke, 
 " is dear old Japheth. I won't ask you if this 
 is the money he got, Cicely, but, Cicely," 
 she took Cicely's hand and looked at her 
 through tears, " won't you please tell me 
 where Japheth is ? " 
 
 " Japheth 's in Colorado," said Cicely, smil 
 ing again. 
 
 Miss Meadows broke down, now, and laid 
 her head on the table, speaking between her 
 sobs. Her imperiousness had gone, long ago. 
 " Cicely, dear, Japheth once told me that the 
 things one wanted most could n't be asked for 
 they had to be given freely I 've got some 
 thing I want to give him I think I '11 tele 
 graph him to wait there till I can come out 
 I can finish my novel just as well after after 
 we 're married." 
 
 She raised her head, now, and smiled beauti 
 fully. Then she added : " But we '11 come back 
 here to live, Cicely ! I love this boarding- 
 house ! " 
 
 " I 'm awfully afraid you can't, Miss Mea 
 dows," said Cicely, gathering up the dishes. 
 " Mrs. Peterborough is going to give up the 
 house, and I 've already got another place ! "
 
 VIII 
 
 The New York and Arcady 
 Railroad 
 
 IT should go without saying that part of this 
 story, the chief part, I did not know till so 
 long afterward that it did not matter. Not 
 that it would have mattered then, I suppose, for 
 I had had my fortune for a day, and that gave me 
 a new power over my own will. 
 
 It all seems foolish enough, now, for me to have 
 stood off and made her do the wooing, but I was 
 young and proud. I did not know then how little 
 such things should matter in love's sight. But I 
 learned before long a new lesson from Miss Mil 
 lion ; I learned the unselfishness not only of gen 
 erosity, but of acceptance. She, knowing how much 
 more blessed it is to give than to receive, could, 
 with all her longing for generosity, accept gener 
 ously. In this she was as simple as in her giving, 
 and giving was so natural a part of her character 
 that she seemed to expect it of others, often even 
 
 [239 ]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 forgetting her thanks , taking the gift for granted, 
 as one she would have made herself without think 
 ing, had the -positions been reversed. 
 
 As it happened, too, the loss of five millions was 
 hardly felt at all by Miss Million, for she became 
 heir to her Aunt Margaret shortly after we were 
 married. And I think that no one, even Miss 
 Million herself, could have used that money more 
 wisely than did Mary, for the story of her spend 
 ing of it would make another book as long as this. 
 
 And so I leave you. I am still in Arcady with 
 Margaret, and I hope never to venture far away.
 
 The New York and Arcady 
 Railroad 
 
 IT was Margaret Million's birthday, she 
 was twenty-four, youth was still bub 
 bling up in her glass, and the fountain 
 seemed ceaseless. She had health, wealth, wit, 
 and beauty. She had brought the priceless gift 
 of romance to many, she had suffered and re 
 joiced with them, she had played the part of 
 a little sister of Destiny was it not time for 
 her to be the heroine? She had just discovered 
 herself to be in love, but money could not buy 
 her happiness ; indeed, her money might only 
 drive it away. 
 
 It was with such thoughts that Miss Million 
 returned from the boarding-house, where, un 
 known and unsuspected, she had put a delicate, 
 urgent finger between the strands of fate, and 
 had drawn them wondrously aside, bringing 
 hidden golden threads up into the gray pattern 
 of two lives. 
 
 She opened the door of her apartment, and,
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 still disguised in the black frock and the linen 
 cuffs and collars of a housemaid, entered the 
 Indian hall. Lonely as her birthday might be, 
 she was glad to be at home again. 
 
 Hachewa, her Navajo maid, parted the 
 portieres and greeted her with customary sto 
 lidity. 
 
 " Mr. Rayne is here, waiting for you in the 
 library," she announced. 
 
 Miss Million nodded and passed into her 
 chamber. In twenty minutes she returned, 
 gowned in lace pervaded with pearls over rose 
 chiffon, like a cobweb bedecked with dewdrops. 
 A pink rose was in her hair. She saw no one 
 in the library, but, questing the room, her eyes 
 fell upon a mimic scene laid out upon the 
 floor. In a moment she was on her knees be 
 fore it, uttering a cry of delight. Then, by a 
 reaction of feeling, her eyes were suffused with 
 tears. 
 
 It was a tiny replica, in painted pasteboard, 
 of her ranch-house in California, set in a grove 
 of toy trees, surrounded by the familiar paths 
 and roads in sandpaper. Not a shed or out 
 building was missing. It was like looking 
 through the small end of a telescope. The 
 [242]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 house windows were made from sheets of mica ; 
 and behind the little white sashes were draped 
 lacy paper curtains. On the broad front porch 
 was her hammock, her chair, even her faded 
 pink sunbonnet. From the chimney curled a 
 rising thread of perfumed smoke. 
 
 The one incongruous detail was the toy rail 
 road track, which, curving round the house, 
 came from and returned to the room beyond. 
 In another moment, however, its function was 
 evident. She heard a labored puffing of steam ; 
 then, climbing over the grade at the door-sill 
 and hurrying down the decline, to career dan 
 gerously round the curve, came a Lilliputian 
 train, pulled by a ridiculously energetic locomo 
 tive. 
 
 She stopped it as it passed, seeing a note in 
 one of the open cars. In it was written: 
 
 *' Please take this magic-carpet train 
 And make yourself at home ! 
 And take my greetings, if you '11 deign 
 To read this birthday pome." 
 
 She placed a book upon the track, and leaving 
 the little engine like a tied kitten struggling to 
 get away, she ran to her desk and wrote upon 
 a sheet of paper: 
 
 [ 2 43]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 " DEAR MAGIC, You have sent me a cargo 
 of smiles and tears. Do take the train and 
 come to share them with me. M. M." 
 
 In another moment Winton Rayne came in 
 and found her still seated on the floor. She held 
 up her hand for him to kiss, and said : 
 
 " It was so dear of you to get this beautiful 
 little ranch for me ; but oh, it does make me so 
 homesick ! Did you want to drive me back to 
 California ? I wish we could get into that little 
 train together and go somewhere I don't 
 exactly know where." 
 
 An answer seemed to flutter on his lips, only 
 to be sent back in disgrace. " It is dark there 
 behind the curtain where the train went," he 
 said; "it might be dangerous traveling! " 
 
 " But I want to go behind the curtain ! I Ve 
 been behind the curtain of other lives, you 
 know. Now I want to explore my own ! " 
 
 " Are n't you afraid of the dark ? " he ques 
 tioned; "we might upset and fall out." 
 
 " I would n't be afraid, with you," she dared, 
 her eyes fixed shining upon him. 
 
 He resisted even this encouragement, but 
 the effort drew a triangularly-cleft frown be- 
 [244]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 tween his brows, and shut his fine lips below 
 his closely-cropped black mustache; his brown 
 eyes, usually so direct and fearless, turned from 
 the sight of her. Suddenly he shook himself 
 free from his mood. 
 
 " I have n't given you your real presents 
 yet," he said. " I have one for every birthday 
 you 've had." 
 
 He went out into the hall and brought in a 
 clothes-basket filled with packages. " Here they 
 are," he began ; " I '11 give them to you in chro 
 nological order. The first one is dated 1881." 
 
 He handed them to her, one by one, and 
 she opened them as gleefully as a child, with a 
 running fire of comment. 
 
 " One year a rattle, of course ! And I Ve 
 never been rattled since, I believe. Two years 
 a silver mug with my name engraved on it. 
 Yes, I remember that ! Three years old a rub 
 ber ball. Four a doll. Five the ' Chatter 
 box ' I remember every picture in it. Six 
 years a kaleidoscope I haven't outgrown 
 my love for them yet. Seven a paint-box, no 
 compliment to my complexion. Eight years 
 oh ! oh ! oh ! A carnelian ring I have n't 
 seen one for perfect ages ! " 
 
 [245]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 She placed it upon her little finger, smiling 
 quietly. " I can just remember a little boy with 
 red hair and freckles " 
 
 "Nine years an autograph album did 
 you ever ! Have you written in it ? Oh, yes, 
 here it is, with secrets and initials in the cor 
 ner and the regulation verse ' I thought and 
 thought and thought in vain, at last I thought 
 I 'd write my name.' With your name erased 
 and carefully rewritten, of course. Yes, I know 
 you could write better than that you need n't 
 apologize. Ten years old, now a scrap-book, 
 with pages for a paper-doll's dining-room, bed 
 room, kitchen, and everything. I 'm going to 
 cut some beautiful furniture out of the maga 
 zines. Eleven how did you know I used to 
 love tops? I was the worst tomboy in town, of 
 course ; every nice girl is. Twelve a jump- 
 rope. I can do pepper, right now, faster than 
 anybody you ever saw ! Thirteen Roman 
 sash. Oh, dear ! I 'm growing up ! I would 
 have been crazy about that when I was a girl. 
 Fourteen bangle with engraved dimes. What 
 I really had was a strawberry broncho and a 
 Mexican saddle, and a quirt with a gold nugget 
 in the butt of it. Pa struck it rich that year. 
 [246]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 Fifteen what lovely green beads my favorite 
 color ! I '11 put them right on. Are n't they 
 becoming? Sixteen a fan. I 'm beginning to 
 dance the first one I ever went to was a Mex 
 ican cascaroni dance, where they smash egg-shells 
 full of confetti on your head, and you comb 
 sparks of colored paper out of your hair for a 
 week afterward. Seventeen diary for the year 
 1898. Where did you ever find it ? One week 
 all written in no, I wont show it to you, I 'd 
 be ashamed ! Eighteen Trilby locket. Why 
 did n't you put your picture inside ? Nineteen 
 ' Lucile.' I wonder if I could read it again ? 
 Twenty side-combs. Twenty-one watch 
 and chain almost gold; and as good a dia 
 mond ring for a quarter as I have ever seen. 
 Twenty-two opera-glasses. You struck that 
 right. I was wild over Shakespeare two years 
 ago. Twenty-three a bank-book with a dollar 
 already deposited ! Now you 'd better be care 
 ful ! Twenty-four oh, Winton a mirror ! 
 That 's a very pretty compliment ! " 
 
 " How kind you Ve been to me ! How could 
 you ever have thought of so many clever, charm 
 ing things ? " She looked up with delight. 
 
 " It is rather difficult to think up presents for 
 
 [247]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 an heiress." he said. " I was at my wits' end for 
 an idea. You have everything you need already. 
 It 's like giving a jubilee present to a queen." 
 
 " That fatal ten millions of mine ! " she 
 sighed. " They have stood in the way of so 
 many things. If I had n't been able to do a few 
 good things with it, I would say that I hated 
 my money. Ever since I was a girl it has at 
 tracted the worst men to me and kept the best 
 men away. Do you wonder that I have wanted 
 to forget that I was rich, and to live with com 
 mon, simple people who would accept me for 
 what I am? I wish you did n't know that I had 
 money. I don't believe that even you can be 
 unaffected by it. One hears a great deal about 
 the pride of wealth, but it 's nothing to the pride 
 of poverty, which hedges its self-respect about 
 with such ridiculous reserves." 
 
 " You 're right I know that well enough." 
 He turned away from her, and spoke as if to 
 himself. " Money matters there 's no getting 
 around it ! A year ago I would have laughed 
 at the man who said he would n't dare propose 
 to a rich girl ; but I understand it better now. 
 There 's an insurmountable barrier as strong as 
 the color-line. It is n't right or reasonable, but 
 [248]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 it 's there. It 's almost a question of caste. I 
 know how exasperated you must feel about it 
 sometimes, but I realize what any decent man 
 must have felt about it, too. The poor man 
 won't speak and the rich girl can't." 
 
 " Not unless the poor man drives her to it," 
 she murmured. 
 
 He did not hear her, for he was walking up 
 and down the room, now, continuing his so 
 liloquy. 
 
 " Perhaps a man who has never had any 
 money has an exaggerated idea of its value, as 
 the self-made man overestimates the impor 
 tance of a college degree, but the idea of being 
 dependent on his wife for every cent must hurt 
 his self-respect, no matter how willing she is to 
 support him. But I suppose it 's just as hard 
 for the heiress as it is for the refined pauper. 
 It 's a case of the irresistible force meeting an 
 immovable body. It 's a battle of pride." 
 
 " It was never a case of pride with me," said 
 Miss Million, drawing the tip of her forefinger 
 thoughtfully down the path between the little 
 trees. " I don't see why I can't be perfectly sim 
 ple with my friends, and they with me. There 
 should be no question of pride when one really 
 
 C 2 49]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 cares for another, and yet I have no doubt 
 this hateful money of mine will eventually stand 
 in the way of my marrying the man I love 
 most." 
 
 " Oh, you may fall in love with a millionaire ; 
 in that case it will be all right," Rayne remarked 
 a little bitterly. 
 
 Miss Million began to rearrange the toy 
 trees. " There 's not much danger of that," she 
 said. " Millionaires don't often have imagina 
 tion." She put her finger into the curling per 
 fumed smoke coming from the chimney of the 
 tiny house. " They seldom have sentiment." 
 She swung the little hammock on the front 
 porch. "I never knew one who understood 
 what romance meant." She straightened the 
 railroad track, and gazed wistfully at the spot 
 where it disappeared between the portieres. 
 
 "Yet you have all these," said Rayne, turn 
 ing round to her suddenly. 
 
 " That 's why I 'm so lonely," she answered. 
 
 He was about to speak, and his look betrayed 
 the emotion that was rising in him, when the 
 Navajo maid appeared. 
 
 "A telegram for Mr. Rayne," she announced, 
 handing him an envelope upon a tray. 
 [250]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 He asked Miss Million's permission to read 
 the message and glanced at it. " My Uncle Leo 
 pold died suddenly this afternoon. I must go 
 immediately," he said. 
 
 She jumped to her feet and came towards 
 him. " Oh, is it anybody you were very fond 
 of? " she asked, holding out her hand. 
 
 He took it and returned her frank pressure. 
 " I can't be really sorry, for he has suffered a 
 good deal and I 've been expecting this ; but I 
 was fond of him. He was the only relative I 
 had in the world. He put me through college, 
 and has done a good deal for me beside." 
 
 "He has no family, then ? I hope he was not 
 quite alone." 
 
 " There 's only Mary, but she 's lived with 
 him and taken care of him for so long that she 
 has been almost the same as a daughter to him, 
 though he never legally adopted her.'* 
 
 "If there 's anything I can do if you need 
 any money, or Mary does, I hope you '11 
 let me help you. Or perhaps your uncle was 
 well off? " 
 
 " Thank you. But I scarcely think there '11 
 be any necessity for that. He had a little 
 money, just about enough to live on, but he
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 was an inveterate speculator and he always lost. 
 So I must be going, Miss Million, and I '11 
 remember your offer. I '11 be back as soon as 
 I can, but I may have to be away a week." 
 
 As soon as he had left, Miss Million seated 
 herself at her secretary and began to think. 
 For some time she bit the end of her penholder 
 reflectively. Then she reached for a sheet of 
 paper and wrote very slowly and deliberately, 
 pausing at intervals to consider her words. 
 Then she placed the note in an envelope, which 
 she addressed and sealed. 
 
 Next she arose and went to a panel in the 
 library, which she opened, disclosing a safe built 
 into the wall. She fingered the combination, 
 pulled open the great door, and reached for a 
 drawer marked " Personal Account." It was 
 filled with neatly tied packets of Government 
 bonds. She took out ten, closed the safe, and car 
 ried the securities with the letter to her room. 
 
 
 
 A week later, Miss Million was bustling 
 about with childlike excitement in her great 
 dining-hall. She was girlishly dressed in a short 
 gown of pongee silk, with a green stock, green 
 belt, and embroidered green silk stockings.
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 The coquettish red heels of her little black 
 slippers added almost two welcome inches to 
 her stature, but her hair, hanging in a single 
 long braid, compensated for the effect. The 
 square-cut neck of her babyish waist showed a 
 close string of dull green glass beads, and on the 
 little finger of her left hand was a carnelian ring. 
 When a woman wears such a costume, it is not 
 done without premeditation and design. 
 
 Margaret Million was, apparently, happy. 
 She added her voice at times in blithe, trilling 
 flights to the strains of a huge music-box which 
 poured out a stream of ringing, tinkling har 
 mony from a far corner of the great room. In 
 the centre of the parquetry floor a table, long 
 and wide, had been placed ; upon it, a marvel 
 of toy-engineering, Winton Rayne's little rail 
 road was laid out with a complicated system of 
 tracks and switches. This plaything Miss Mil 
 lion was operating with enthusiasm. She was 
 leaning, tiptoe, over the edge of the table to 
 reach a yellow tin passenger-coach as Winton 
 Rayne entered. 
 
 If she seemed five years younger in her cos 
 tume and in her naive enjoyment of the play, 
 something in his carriage and manner made him 
 
 [253]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 appear older, or at least, more dignified and 
 surer of himself, as if he had lately been dis 
 tinguished by some honor or success. He was, 
 however, no less eagerly affected at the sight of 
 her. She ran to meet him, holding out both 
 hands in welcome. 
 
 " I 'm so glad to see you ! I hope everything 
 is all right?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, " although there have 
 been some unexpected developments in regard 
 to my uncle's estate that I may want to speak 
 to you about." 
 
 Her serious air immediately changed to a gay 
 frivolity. 
 
 "Wait till after dinner for that," she said. 
 " You Ve just been elected president of the 
 N. Y. & A. Railroad. I'm General Traffic 
 Manager. I Ve been wanting to see you about 
 locomotive No. 999. She 's been jumping the 
 track, and I don't know whether it 's the fault 
 of the Motive Power or the Maintenance of 
 Way Department. Do come and see what 's 
 the matter." 
 
 " You seem to have learned a good deal 
 about railroading in a week," he remarked. 
 
 " A week ! " she repeated. " My father 
 [254]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 owned six roads, I think I ought to know 
 something about it ! I can run a Mogul my 
 self, and I Ve done it, too up six per cent 
 grades and round ten degree curves ! " 
 
 As she chattered on, she poured a little water 
 into the boiler, and filled the alcohol lamp of 
 the toy locomotive and lighted it. 
 
 " What did you say the name of this railroad 
 was ? " he asked. 
 
 " The New York & Arcady," she answered, 
 stooping over the little engine to try the valve. 
 
 He looked as her hard. " If I 'm president, 
 then I suppose I have a free pass over the line." 
 
 She nodded, still keeping her head down 
 near No. 999. 
 
 " I always wanted to go to Arcady but I 
 don't like to travel alone." 
 
 " Look out ! " she cried, " she 's ready to 
 
 go!" 
 
 She gave it a little push to help it round a 
 reversed curve, and No. 999 puffed bravely 
 into the main track. As the steam pressure 
 grew stronger, it went faster and faster, lurch 
 ing drunkenly round the curves and whizzing 
 along the tangents, Miss Million switching the 
 train from one track to another over the i sys- 
 
 [255]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 tern. As they stood watching it, the locomo 
 tive ran into an open switch, jumped the track, 
 and plunged over upon its side. The alcohol, 
 escaping from the burner, enveloped the engine 
 with blue flames. 
 
 " Oh, how could you, 999 ! " cried Miss 
 Million. 
 
 Winton Rayne ran to the wreck and began 
 to blow upon it with all his strength. "It's 
 your fault!" he gasped between puffs; " I know 
 just how it feels myself! " 
 
 " Be careful, it will explode ! " she cried. 
 He snatched a rug from the floor and threw it 
 over the conflagration. Just as he did so, a 
 muffled explosion occurred and a cloud of steam 
 escaped from beneath the rug. Then No. 999 
 lay still. 
 
 She looked at him with mischief in her eyes. 
 " Do you feel like that, too ? " she asked. 
 
 "I do," he answered, "do you know why?" 
 
 She refused to take him seriously even then, 
 and, springing upon the table, sat on the edge, 
 swinging her feet. 
 
 " I hope I do," she said, clasping her hands. 
 
 " Then I 'm going to explode too," he said, 
 looking hard at her. " I Ve been in love with 
 [256]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 you for six months, Margaret, and I want to 
 know if you care for me at all." He took her 
 hand boldly. 
 
 " Why, of course, you goose ! Have you 
 only just discovered it ? " Her eyes fell and 
 rose to his again. " I love you so much, dear, 
 that I should think you would have seen it in 
 every look I ever gave you." 
 
 He caught her in his arms and gave her a 
 half-dozen impetuous kisses. Then he held 
 her tightly, gazing into her eyes. He saw them 
 send him long, steady messages of tenderness. 
 Then her lids half dropped, her lips parted, and 
 two entrancing dimples added their whimsical 
 roguery to her smile. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " I thought you 
 were going to propose to me on my birthday. 
 Why did you wait for a whole, long week?" 
 
 " I have n't proposed yet," he said, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Oh, please do, quick ! " she whispered. 
 
 " Even though I have n't a cent to my 
 name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " she cried, putting her arms 
 about his neck. 
 
 " But I 'm not poor, after all," he said. " My 
 
 [257]
 
 A Little Sister of Destiny 
 
 uncle must have had some extraordinary luck, 
 for five millions was found on deposit in his 
 name on the day after he died, and I am his 
 sole legal heir. I am not as rich as you, dear, 
 but I am in your class, and that 's why I Ve 
 dared to tell you I love you. " 
 
 " I don't see how it makes any difference at 
 all," she said wistfully. " You 're the same man 
 that you were before, are n't you ? I almost 
 think I liked you even better as you were a 
 week ago." 
 
 " Do you ? " he exclaimed ; " do you really ? 
 I 'd like to believe that ! " 
 
 " Why ? " she asked wonderingly. 
 
 " Because," he spoke slowly, " though I 'm 
 worth five millions to-day, to-morrow I '11 be 
 as poor as I ever was. You remember I told 
 you that my uncle put me through college. 
 Well, when I had graduated, he said to me, 
 f I Ve done all I can for you now, Winton, and 
 what money I leave I want to go to Mary.' 
 Strangely enough, he died without making a 
 will, and so of course I am in honor bound to 
 give his fortune up to her. I intend to write 
 and tell her so to-morrow. I waited only be 
 cause being his heir seemed to give me some- 
 [258]
 
 The New York & Arcady R. R. 
 
 how the right to propose to you. I will have 
 been a millionaire for just one week." 
 
 " That 's long enough to win me," she said. 
 " I hope you will consider your legacy well in 
 vested." 
 
 " I expect it to pay the biggest dividends 
 ever heard of," he said rapturously. 
 
 " Oh, I am a gilt-edged security," she laughed. 
 
 " Then if I propose to you now, we can take 
 the N. Y. & A. to Arcady?" 
 
 " As soon as you like, dear," she said. " I 
 think we Ve got a good safe road." 
 
 She nestled closer to him, and laid her head 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, Winton," she added, " if we 're really 
 going to be married, I think perhaps I 'd bet 
 ter transfer my private account to you and let 
 you manage it in the future. I 've made a rather 
 rash investment this week. I don't call it ex 
 actly unsuccessful, but I 've lost quite a little 
 money. Do you mind ? "
 
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 JOHN PERCYFIELD 
 
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 " The story of their love is simply and sweetly told, 
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