finding tobacco in the china closet, and segars in the knife box, where
they had been put to get them out of the way.

"But Hugh really did his best for us," mildly interposed the mother.
"Don't you remember what the servants said about his cleaning one floor
himself because he knew they were tired!"

"Did it more to save the lazy negroes' steps than from any regard for
our comfort," retorted 'Lina. "At all events he's been mighty careful
since how he gratified my wishes. Sometimes I believe he perfectly hates
me, and wishes I'd never been born," and tears, which arose from anger,
rather than any wounded sisterly feeling, glittered in 'Lina's black
eyes.

"Hugh does not hate any one," said Mrs. Worthington, "much less his
sister, though you must admit that you try him terribly."

"How, I'd like to know?" 'Lina asked, and her mother replied:

"He thinks you proud, and vain, and artificial, and you know he abhors
deceit above all else. Why, he'd cut off his right hand sooner than tell
a lie."

"Pshaw!" was 'Lina's contemptuous response, then after a moment she
continued: "I wonder how we came to be so different. He must be like his
father, and I like mine--that is, supposing I know who he is. Wouldn't
it be funny if, just to be hateful, he had sent you back the wrong
child?"

"What made you think of that?" Mrs. Worthington asked, quickly, and