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“I think he was cruel; I can’t help it, papa,” cried Esther, with whom this was an old argument, “still it did good, that time!”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t cruel, my dear,” said Armorer, with a queer smile that seemed to take only one-half of his face, not answering the last words; “he was too sure of his interpretation of the Scripture, that was all. Why, that man just slaved to educate us children; he’d have gone to the stake rejoicing to have made sure that we should be saved. And of the whole seven only one is a church member. Is that the road?”

They could see a car swinging past, on a parallel street, its bent pole hitching along the trolley-wire.

“Pretty scrubby-looking cars,” commented Armorer; “but get our new ordinance through the council, we can save enough to afford some fine new cars. Has Lossing said anything to you about the ordinance and our petition to be allowed to leave off the conductors?”

“He hasn’t said anything, but I read about it in the papers. Is it so very important that it should be passed?”

“Saving money is always important, my dear,” said Armorer, seriously.

The horses turned again. They were now opposite a fair lawn and a house of wood and stone built after the old colonial pattern, as modern architects see it. Esther pointed, saying:

“Aunt Meg’s, papa; isn’t it pretty?”

“Very handsome, very fine,” said the financier, who knew nothing about architecture, except its exceeding expense. “Esther, I’ve a notion; if that young man of yours has brains and is fond of you he ought to be able to get my ordinance through his little eight by ten city council. There is our chance to see what stuff he is made of!”

“Oh, he has a great deal of influence,” said Esther; “he can do it, unless–unless he thinks the ordinance would be bad for the city, you know.”

“Confound the modern way of educating girls!” thought Armorer. “Now, it would have been enough for Esther’s mother to know that anything was for my interests; it wouldn’t have to help all out-doors, too!”

But instead of enlarging on this point, he went into a sketch of the improvements the road could make with the money saved by the change, and was waxing eloquent when a lady of a pleasant and comely face, and a trig though not slender figure, advanced to greet them.

It was after breakfast (and the scene was the neat pig’s pen, where Armorer was displaying his ignorance of swine) that he found his first chance to talk with his sister alone. “Oh, first, Sis,” said he, “about your birthday, to-day; I telegraphed to Tiffany’s for that silver service, you know, that you liked, so you needn’t think there’s a mistake when it comes.”

“Oh, ‘Raish, that gorgeous thing! I must kiss you, if Daniel does see me!”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Armorer, hastily, and began to talk of the pig. Suddenly, without looking up, he dropped into the pig-pen the remark: “I’m very much obliged to you for writing me, Meg.”

“I don’t know whether to feel more like a virtuous sister or a villanous aunt,” sighed Mrs. Ellis; “things seemed to be getting on so rapidly that it didn’t seem right, Esther visiting me and all, not to give you a hint; still, I am sure that nothing has been said, and it is horrid for Esther, perfectly HORRID, discussing her proposals that haven’t been proposed!”

“I don’t want them ever to be proposed,” said Armorer, gloomily.

“I know you always said you didn’t want Esther to marry; but I thought if she fell in love with the right man–we know that marriage is a very happy estate, sometimes, Horatio!” She sighed again. In her case it was only the memory of happiness, for Colonel Ellis had been dead these twelve years; but his widow mourned him still.

“If you marry the right one, maybe,” answered Armorer, grudgingly; “but see here, Meg, Esther is different from the other girls; they got married when Jenny was alive to look after them, and I knew the men, and they were both big matches, you know. Then, too, I was so busy making money while the other girls grew up that I hadn’t time to get real well acquainted with them. I don’t think they ever kissed me, except when I gave them a check. But Esther and I—-” he drummed with his fingers on the boards, his thin, keen face wearing a look that would have amazed his business acquaintances–“you remember when her mother died, Meg? Only fifteen, and how she took hold of things! And we have been together ever since, and she makes me think of her grandmother and her mother both. She’s never had a wish I knew that I haven’t granted–why, d—- it! I’ve bought my clothes to please her—-“