the poor woman's circumstances, it would be ostentatious."

"Belle, Mr. Schriven is right," said her father, in a tone of quiet
authority.

"Let us rather consider the need of the daughter," Mr. Schriven
resumed. "You say she is worn and weak from watching and work. A
quarter of the money that a funeral would cost would give her two
or three weeks in the country. And now," he concluded impressively--his
conscience needed a little soothing, and his purse was plethoric
with the thousand dollars wrung from those who had the misfortune
to be in his power--"I will pay her board at some quiet farmhouse
for three weeks, and then she'll come back fresh and strong to her
old place."

Belle's eyes filled with tears of gladness. "You are right, sir,
and you are very kind and generous. I know just the place for her
to go--the people we've been with all summer. They are kind, and
will do everything for her, and take away her strange feeling at
once. Oh, I'm so glad it's all ending so much better than I feared!
I thought this morning I could never be happy again, but you've
made all seem so different and hopeful. I thank you, sir, over and
over, and I'll do my best now at the store, and be respectful to
every one."

The man was touched. The warm, reflected glow of the girl's heart
softened for a moment his own icy organ, and his eyes grew moist
momentarily. "You are a good child," he said. "Here are thirty-five
dollars for your friend, for you've been a friend to her indeed.
Most girls would have let them starve for all they cared. Now send