one, and at this moment Hetta came into the room.

"It is not worth ten cents," said Aaron, with something like a frown
on his brow. "But as we had been talking about the bridge, I
thought Miss Susan would accept it."

"Accept what?" said Hetta. And then her eye fell upon the drawing
and she took it up.

"It is beautifully done," said Mrs. Bell, wishing much to soften the
matter; perhaps the more so that Hetta the demure was now present.
"I am telling Mr. Dunn that we can't take a present of anything so
valuable."

"Oh dear no," said Hetta. "It wouldn't be right."

It was a cold frosty evening in March, and the fire was burning
brightly on the hearth. Aaron Dunn took up the drawing quietly--
very quietly--and rolling it up, as such drawings are rolled, put it
between the blazing logs. It was the work of four evenings, and his
chef-d'oeuvre in the way of art.

Susan, when she saw what he had done, burst out into tears. The
widow could very readily have done so also, but she was able to
refrain herself, and merely exclaimed--"Oh, Mr. Dunn!"

"If Mr. Dunn chooses to burn his own picture, he has certainly a
right to do so," said Hetta.

Aaron immediately felt ashamed of what he had done; and he also