her purse contained the desired three hundred and fifty dollars,
which, after her arrival in the city, was spent as freely as if it
really belonged to her, and not to the orphan Dora, who was now
staying with Mrs. Grannis, a kind-hearted woman in the same block
where her mother had died. The furs were bought, the pearls
examined, the forks priced, and then Alice ventured to ask when
they were going to find Dora.

"I shall leave that for the last thing," answered Eugenia. "She
can't run away, and nobody wants to be bothered with a child to
look after."

So for three more days little Dora looked out of the dingy window
upon the dirty court below, wishing her aunt would come, and
wondering if she should like her. At last, towards the close of
Friday afternoon, there was a knock at the door and a haughty-
looking, elegantly dressed young lady inquired if a little orphan
girl lived there.

"That's her--Aunt Sarah," exclaimed Dora, springing joyfully
forward; but she paused and started back, as she met the cold,
scrutinizing glance of Eugenia's large black eyes.

"Are you the child I am looking for?" asked Eugenia, without
deigning to notice Mrs. Grannis's request that she would walk in.

"I am Dora Deane," was the simple answer; and then, as briefly as
possible, Eugenia explained that she had been sent for her, and
that early the next morning she would call to take her to the
depot.