"It's one of them plaster casts, I'll be bound," Myrtella continued.
"I might 'a' knowed you'd git the mate to the other one, and not a
square inch of space in the house to set it on! What did you give fer
it?"

Mrs. Flathers withdrew her apron, and tenderly dusted the highly
colored features of an Indian squaw, whose head-feathers reposed upon
her arm. Then she placed it on a corner of the stove where its
imposing dignity produced a momentary impression upon even the flinty
Myrtella.

"How much?" she demanded heartlessly.

"A quarter down, and ten cents a week." Maria sighed. "'Twouldn't be
no trouble at all if it wasn't for Phineas spending so much car-fare
going to church and that bow-legged, onery rent-man, that comes
sneakin' round here every week, acting like poor people just kep'
money settin' 'round in jars waitin' fer the likes of him!"

Maria's hatred of the rent man was the one emotion that seemed to be
left in her withered bosom. To baffle him, to evade him, to anticipate
his coming and be away from home, constituted the chief object of her
existence.

A bang of the gate announced the arrival of the head of the household,
which was promptly followed by the strains of a hymn cheerfully
whistled in rag-time.

Phineas Flathers, after months of abstinence, had reached that period
where he felt that not only his constitution, but his profession would