“And orphan,” interposed Mr. Clamp.

She looked at him quietly; but he was imperturbable.

“We must begin to collect what is due,” she continued.

“Did you refer to the notes from Ploughman?” asked Mr. Clamp.  “He is perfectly good; and he will pay the interest till we want to use the money.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Ploughman,” she replied, “but of Mark Davenport, Uncle Ralph Hardwick’s nephew.  They say he is a teacher in one of the fashionable schools in New York,—­and he must be able to pay, if he’s ever going to.”

“Well, when he comes on here, I will present the notes.”

“But I don’t intend to wait till he comes; can’t you send the demands to a lawyer where he is?”

“Certainly, if you wish it; but that course will necessarily be attended with some expense.”

“I choose to have it done,” said Mrs. Kinloch, decisively.  “Mildred, who has always been foolishly partial to the young upstart, insists that her father intended to give up the notes to Mark, and she thinks that was what he wanted to send for Uncle Ralph about, just before he died.  I don’t believe it, and I don’t intend to fling away my money upon such folks.”

“You are quite right, ma’am,” said the lawyer.  “The inconsiderate generosity of school-children would be a poor basis for the transactions of business.”

“And besides,” continued Mrs. Kinloch, “I want the young man to remember the blacksmith’s shop that he came from, and get over his ridiculous notion of looking up to our family.”

“Oh ho!” said Mr. Clamp, “that is it?  Well, you are a sagacious woman,”—­ looking at her with unfeigned admiration.

“I can see through a millstone, when there is a hole in it,” said Mrs. Kinloch.  “And I mean to stop this nonsense.”

“To be sure,—­it would be a very unequal match in every way.  Besides, I’m told that he isn’t well-grounded in doctrine.  He even goes to Brooklyn to hear Torchlight preach.”  And Mr. Clamp rolled up his eyes, interlocking his fingers, as he was wont when at church-meeting he rose to exhort.

“I don’t pretend to be a judge of doctrine, further than the catechism goes,” said the widow; “but Mr. Rook says that Torchlight is a dangerous man, and will lead the churches off into infidelity.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kinloch, the free-thinking of this age is the fruitful parent of all evil,—­of Mormonism, Unitarianism, Spiritualism, and of all those forms of error which seek to overthrow”——­

There was a crash in the china-closet.  Mrs. Kinloch went to the door, and leading out Lucy Ransom, the maid, by the ear, exclaimed, “You hussy, what were you there for?  I’ll teach you to be listening about in closets,” (giving the ear a fresh tweak,) “you eavesdropper!”

“Quit!” cried Lucy.  “I didn’t mean to listen.  I was there rubbin’ the silver ’fore you come.  Then I didn’t wanter come out, for I was afeard.”