room in dudgeon.

"Mr. Wharton's a fool!" she muttered to herself.

"What possessed him to take this cash-boy from the streets, invite him
to dinner, and treat him as an honored guest, and finally to engage him
as a reader? I never heard of anything so ridiculous! Is this little
vagabond to take my place in the old man's good graces? I've been
slaving and slaving for twenty years, and what have I got by it? I've
laid up two thousand dollars; and what is that to provide for my old
age? If the old man would die, and remember me handsomely in his will,
it would be worth while; but this new favorite may stand in my way. If
he does I'll be revenged on him as sure as my name is Ulrica Bradley."

Here the area bell rang, and in a moment one of the housemaids entered
Mrs. Bradley's room.

"There's your nephew outside, ma'am, and wanting to see you."

"Tell him to come in," and the housekeeper's cold face became softer and
pleasanter in aspect as a young man of twenty entered and greeted her
carelessly.

"How are you, aunt?"

"Pretty well, Thomas," she answered. "You haven't been here for some
time."

"No. I've had a lot of work to do. Nothing but work, work, all the
time," he grumbled. "I wish I was rich."