"I do. Oh, Judge Baxter, please don't think I am asking this for any
selfish reasons. I am not, indeed I'm not! All my life, ever since I was
old enough to think of such things at all, I have supposed--I have been
led to believe that my stepfather left me plenty of money--money enough
to pay my uncles for taking care of me, for my clothes and board, and
now, during these last two years, for my studies in Boston. I never,
never should have consented to go to that school if I hadn't supposed I
was paying the expenses myself. I knew my uncles were not well-to-do; I
knew they could not afford to--to do what they had already done for me,
even before that. And now--last night--I was told that--that they were
in great financial trouble, that they would probably be obliged to fail
in business, and all because they had been spending their money on me,
sacrificing themselves and their comfort and happiness in order that
'an adopted niece with extravagant ideas' might be educated above her
station; that is the way the gentleman who told me the story put it. Of
course he didn't know he was talking to the niece," she added, with a
pathetic little smile; "but, oh, Judge, can't you see now why I must
know the truth--all of the truth?"

Her fingers clasped and unclasped in her lap. The Judge laid his own
hand upon them.

"There, there, my dear," he said soothingly. "Tut, tut, tut! What's all
this about your uncles failing in business? That isn't possible, is it?
Tell me the whole thing, just as it was told to you."

So Mary told it, concluding by exhibiting Isaiah Chase's letter.

"It must be very bad, you see," she said. "Isaiah never would have
written if it had not been. It is hard enough to think that while I was