Miss Perkins wiped her eyes and then her spectacles. Resuming her
dignity, she proceeded in a calmer voice--

"I will not conceal from you, Susannah, nor from you, Simon, that I
have had my suspicions for several years. Those suspicions became a
certainty some time ago. There can be no doubt now of the relationship
existing between our Nina and the Mr. Algernon, as he called himself,
who took such an interest in the child's welfare. When I saw Mr.
Bruce's death in the paper, I knew that our pet had lost her father.
What was I to do? When I consented to take charge of the child twenty
years ago--and a sweet pretty babe she was--I perfectly understood
there must be a mystery connected with her birth. As head of the
family, I imparted my suspicions to neither of you, and I kept my
conjectures and my disapproval to myself. This seemed only fair to
my correspondent, only fair to the child. When I learned Mr. Bruce's
death, it came upon me like a shot, that he was the Mr. Algernon who
used to visit here, and who furnished such liberal means for the
support and education of that girl up-stairs--Susannah, I cannot make
myself understood if you will persist in blowing your nose!--Since Mr.
Bruce's death no Mr. Algernon has darkened our doors, no remittances
have come to hand with the usual signature. Simon, my impression is
that no provision whatever has been made for the poor thing, and that
our Nina is--is utterly destitute and friendless."

Here Miss Susannah gave a little scream, whereat her sister glared
austerely, and resumed the spectacles she had taken off to dry.

"Not friendless, aunt," exclaimed Simon, in a great heat and fuss;
"never friendless so long as we are all above ground. I am perfectly
willing to--stay, Aunt Jemima, I beg your pardon, what do you think