asserts her authority as head-partner, and forces him to submit to a
woman in a matter of business."

She sank back in her chair. "I understand." she said faintly.

While we had been talking, Minna had walked to the window, and had
remained there looking out. She suddenly turned round as her mother
spoke.

"Mamma! the landlady's little boy has just gone out. Shall I tap at the
window and call him back?"

The widow roused herself with an effort. "What for, my love?" she asked,
absently.

Minna pointed to the mantelpiece. "To take your letter to Mr. Engelman,
mamma." Madame Fontaine looked at the letter--paused for a moment--and
answered, "No, my dear; let the boy go. It doesn't matter for the
present."

She turned to me, with an abrupt recovery of her customary manner.

"I am fortunately, for myself, a sanguine person," she resumed. "I always
did hope for the best; and (feeling the kind motive of what you have said
to me) I shall hope for the best still. Minna, my darling, Mr. David and
I have been talking on dry subjects until we are tired. Give us a little
music." While her daughter obediently opened the piano, she looked at the
flowers. "You are fond of flowers, David?" she went on. "Do you
understand the subject? I ignorantly admire the lovely colors, and enjoy
the delicious scents--and I can do no more. It was really very kind of