dear house!" repeated Laura.

She was staring with an angry championship at the picture. Its sweet
confiding air--as of one cradled in love, happy for generations in the
homage of her kindred and the shelter of the old house--stood for all the
natural human things that creeds and bigots were always trampling under
foot.

Mrs. Fountain, however, only shook her head.

"I don't think Alan's settled anything yet. Only Mrs. Denton's
afraid.--There was somebody came to see it a few days ago----"

"He certainly ought not to sell it," repeated Laura with emphasis. "He
has to think of the people that come after. What will they care for
orphanages? He only holds the picture in trust."

"There will be no one to come after," said Augustina slowly. "For of
course he will never marry."

"Is he too great a saint for that too?" cried Laura. "Then all I can say,
Augustina, is that--it--would--do him a great deal of good."

She beat her little foot on the ground impatiently, pointing the words.

"You don't know anything about him, Laura," said Mrs. Fountain, with an
attempt at spirit. Then she added reproachfully: "And I'm sure he wants
to be kind to you."

"He thinks me a little heretical toad, thank you!" said Laura, spinning