"Oh, Millicent is having a struggle with her better nature, that is
all," laughed Mrs. Dinsmore. "It's hard living with her during the
process, but she's adorable once her noble impulses have been
vanquished and she's comfortably like the rest of the world again."

"I don't know what you mean," said the downright Mr. Brockton.

"No?" Mrs. Dinsmore was sure that the impertinence of her monosyllable
would be lost upon her elderly protege. "I'll make it clear to you, if
I can. Millicent, you know, has nothing--"

"With that figure and that face?" interrupted Brockton, with gallant
enthusiasm.

"I was speaking in your terms, Mr. Brockton," said the lady, with
suave hauteur. "Of course all of us count my cousin's charm and
accomplishments, though we do not inventory them as possessions far
above rubies. But in the valuation of the 'change she has nothing. Oh,
she may manage to extract five or six hundred a year from some
investments of my uncle, and she has the old Harned place in New
Hampshire. That might bring in as much as seven hundred dollars if the
abandoned farm-fever were still on--"

"By ginger!" boasted Brockton, whose expletives lacked _ton_,
"it's more than I had when I started."

"So I remember your saying before. But I fear that my cousin is not a
financial genius. What I meant by her struggles with her better nature
is that she sometimes tries to thwart us when we want to make things