Now, it so happened that Willy had in her own possession more than enough money to pay that wretched Bullock bill. Mrs. Cliff made her no regular allowance, but she had given her all the money that she might reasonably expect to spend in New York, and Willy had spent but very little of it, for she found it the most difficult thing in the world to select what it was she wanted out of all the desirable things she saw.

It would rejoice her heart to transfer this money to Miss Barbara; but how in the world could she do it? She first thought that she might offer to buy something that was in the Thorpedyke house, but she knew this idea was absurd. Then she thought of mentioning, in an off-hand way, that she would like to put some money out at interest, and thus, perhaps, induce Miss Barbara to propose a business transaction. But this would not do. Even Miss Barbara would suspect some concealed motive. Idea after idea came to her, but she could think of no satisfactory plan of getting that money into Miss Barbara's possession.

She did not go out with the party that morning, but sat in her room trying in vain to solve this problem. At last she gave it up and determined to do what she wanted to do without any plan whatever.

She went into Miss Barbara's room and placed upon the table, in the very spot where the bill had been lying, some bank-notes, considerably more than sufficient to pay the amount of the bill, which amount she well remembered. It would not do to leave just money enough, for that would excite suspicion. And so placing Miss Barbara's hair-brush upon the bank-notes, so that she would be sure not to overlook them, for she would not think of going down to luncheon without brushing her hair, Willy retired to her own room, nearly closing the door, leaving only a little crack through which she might see if any servant entered the room before Miss Barbara came back.

Then Willy set herself industriously to work hemming a pocket handkerchief. She could not do this very well, because she was not at all proficient in fine sewing, but she worked with great energy, waiting and listening for Miss Barbara's entrance.

At last, after a long time, Willy heard the outer door of the other room open, and glancing through the crack, she saw Miss Barbara enter. Then she twisted herself around towards the window and began to sew savagely, with a skill much better adapted to the binding of carpets than to any sort of work upon cambric handkerchiefs.

In a few minutes she heard a little exclamation in the next room, and then her door was opened suddenly, without the customary knock, and Miss Barbara marched in. Her face was flushed.

"Willy Croup," said she, "what is the meaning of that money on my table?"

"Money?" said Willy, turning towards her with as innocent an expression as her burning cheeks and rapidly winking eyes would permit; "what do you mean by—money?"

Miss Barbara stood silent for some moments while Willy vainly endeavored to thread the point of her needle.

"Willy," said Miss Barbara, "did you come into my room last night, and look at the bill which was on my table?"

Now Willy dropped her needle, thread, and handkerchief, and stood up.

"Yes, I did!" said she. Miss Barbara was now quite pale.

"And you read the note which Mr. Bullock had put at the bottom of it?"

"Yes, I read it!" said Willy.

"And don't you know," said the other, "that to do such a thing was most—"

"Yes, I do!" interrupted Willy. "I knew it then and I know it now, but I don't care any more now than I did then! I put it there because I wanted to! And if you'll take it, Miss Barbara, and pay it back to me any time when you feel like it,—and you can pay me interest at ten per cent if you want to, and that will make it all right, you know; and oh, Miss Barbara! I know all about that sort of bill, because they used to come when my father was alive. And if you'd only take it, you don't know how happy I would be!"

At this she began to cry, and then Miss Barbara burst into tears, and the two sat down beside each other on a lounge and cried earnestly, hand in hand, for nearly ten minutes.

"I'm so glad you'll take it!" said Willy, when Miss Barbara went into her room, "and you may be just as sure as you're sure of anything that nobody but our two selves will ever know anything about it!"

Immediately after luncheon Miss Barbara went by herself to the post-office, and when she came back her sister said to her that New York must just be beginning to agree with her.

"It is astonishing," said Miss Eleanor, "how long it takes some people to get used to a change, but it often happens that if one stays long enough in the new place, great benefit will be experienced, whereas, if the stay is short, there may be no good result whatever!"

That afternoon Mrs. Cliff actually laughed at Miss Barbara—a thing she had never done before. They were in a large jewelry store where they were looking at clocks, and Miss Barbara, who had evinced a sudden interest in the beautiful things about her, called Mrs. Cliff's attention to a lovely necklace of pearls.

"If I were you," said Miss Barbara, "I would buy something like that! I should not want to wear it, perhaps, but it would be so delightful to sit and look at it!"

The idea of Miss Barbara thinking of buying necklaces of pearls! No wonder Mrs. Cliff laughed.

When the party returned to Plainton, Mrs. Cliff was amazed to find her new house almost completely furnished; and no time was lost in proposing the Thorpedyke project, for Mrs. Cliff felt that it would be wise to make the proposition while the sense of companionship was still fresh upon them all.

Miss Thorpedyke was very much surprised when the plan was proposed to her, but it produced a pleasant effect upon her. She had much enjoyed the company she had been in; she had always liked society, and lately had had very little of it, for no matter how good and lovable sisters may be, they are sometimes a little tiresome when they are sole companions.

As to Barbara, she trembled as she thought of Mrs. Cliff's offer: trembled with joy, which she could not repress; and trembled with fear that her sister might not accept it. But it was of no use for her to say anything,—and she said nothing. Eleanor always decided such questions as these.

After a day's consideration Miss Thorpedyke came to a conclusion, and she sent Miss Barbara with a message to Mrs. Cliff to the effect that as the winters were always lonely, and as it would be very pleasant for them all to be together, she would, if Mrs. Cliff thought it would be an advantage to her, come with her sister and live in some portion of the new building which Mrs. Cliff did not intend to be otherwise occupied, and that they would pay whatever board Mrs. Cliff thought reasonable and proper; but in order to do this, it would be necessary for them to rent their present home. They would offer this house fully furnished,—reserving the privilege of removing the most valuable heirlooms which it now contained, and, as soon as such an arrangement could be made, they would be willing to come to Mrs. Cliff and remain with her during the winter.

When Miss Barbara had heard this decision her heart had fallen! She knew that it would be almost impossible to find a tenant who would take that house, especially for winter occupancy, and that even if a tenant could be found, the rent would be very little. And she knew, moreover, that having come to a decision Eleanor could not be moved from it.

She found Mr. Burke and Willy with Mrs. Cliff, but as he knew all about the project and had taken great interest in it, she did not hesitate to tell her message before him. Mrs. Cliff was very much disappointed.

"That ends the matter!" said she. "Your house cannot be rented for the winter!"

"I don't know about that!" exclaimed Mr. Burke. "By George! I'll take the house myself! I want a house,—I want just such a house; I want it furnished,—except I don't want to be responsible for old heirlooms, and I'm willing to pay a fair and reasonable rent for it; and I'm sure, although I never had the pleasure of being in it, it ought to bring rent enough to pay the board of any two ladies any winter, wherever they might be!"

"But, Mr. Burke," Miss Barbara said, her voice shaking as she spoke, "I must tell you, that the roof is very much out of repair, and—"

"Oh, that doesn't matter at all!" said Burke. "A tenant, if he's the right sort of tenant, is bound to put a house into repair to suit himself. I'll attend to the roof if it needs it, you may be sure of that! And if it doesn't need it, I'll leave it just as it is! That'll be all right, and you can tell your sister that you've found a tenant. I'm getting dreadfully tired of living at that hotel, and a house of my own is somethin' that I've never had before! But one thing I must ask of you, Miss Thorpedyke: don't say anything to your sister about tobacco smoke, and perhaps she will never think of it!"



CHAPTER XV

MISS NANCY MAKES A CALL

It was a day or two after the most satisfactory arrangement between the Thorpedykes, Mrs. Cliff, and Mr. Burke had been concluded, and before it had been made public, that Miss Nancy Shott came to call upon Mrs. Cliff.

As she walked, stiff as a grenadier, and almost as tall, she passed by the new building without turning her head even to glance at it, and going directly up to the front door of the old house, she rang the bell.

As Mrs. Cliff's domestic household were all engaged in the new part of the building, the bell was not heard, and after waiting nearly a minute, Miss Shott rang it again with such vigor that the door was soon opened by a maid, who informed her that Mrs. Cliff was not at home, but that Miss Croup was in.

"Very well," said Miss Shott, "I'll see her!" and, passing the servant, she entered the old parlor. The maid followed her.

"There's no fire here," she said. "Won't you please walk into the other part of the house, which is heated? Miss Croup is over there."

"No!" said Miss Shott, seating herself upon the sofa. "This suits me very well, and Willy Croup can come to me here as well as anywhere else!"

Presently Willy arrived, wishing very much that she also had been out.

"Do come over to the other parlor, Miss Shott!" said she. "There's no furnace heat here because Mrs. Cliff didn't want the old house altered, and we use this room so little that we haven't made a fire."

"I thought you had the chimney put in order!" said Miss Shott, without moving from her seat. "Doesn't it work right?"

Willy assured her visitor that the chimney was in good condition so far as she knew, and repeated her invitation to come into a warmer room, but to this Miss Shott paid no attention.

"It's an old saying," said she, "that a bad chimney saves fuel!—I understand that you've all been to New York shopping?"

"Yes," said Willy, laughing. "It was a kind of shopping, but that's not exactly what I'd call it!" And perceiving that Miss Shott intended to remain where she was, she took a seat.

"Well, of course," said Miss Shott, "everybody's got to act according to their own judgments and consciences! If I was going to buy winter things, I'd do what I could to help the business of my own town, and if I did happen to want anything I couldn't get here, I'd surely go to Harrington, where the people might almost be called neighbors!"

Willy laughed outright. "Oh, Miss Shott," she said, "you couldn't buy the things we bought, in Harrington! I don't believe they could be found in Boston!"

"I was speaking about myself," said Miss Nancy. "I could find anything I wanted in Harrington, and if my wants went ahead of what they had there, I should say that my wants were going too far and ought to be curbed! And so you took those poor old Thorpedyke women with you. I expect they must be nearly fagged out. I don't see how the oldest one ever stood being dragged from store to store all over New York, as she must have been! She's a pretty old woman and can't be expected to stand even what another woman, younger than she is, but old enough, and excited by having money to spend, can stand! It's a wonder to me that you brought her back alive!"

"Miss Eleanor came back a great deal better than she was when she left!" exclaimed Willy, indignantly. "She'll tell you, if you ask her, that that visit to New York did her a great deal of good!"

"No, she won't!" said Miss Shott, "for she don't speak to me. It's been two years since I had anything to do with her!"

Willy knew all about the quarrel between the Thorpedyke ladies and Nancy, and wished to change the subject.

"Don't you want to go and look at the new part of the house?" she said. "Perhaps you'd like to see the things we've bought in New York, and it's cold here!"

To this invitation and the subsequent remark Miss Shott paid no attention. She did not intend to give Willy the pleasure of showing her over the house, and it was not at all necessary, for she had seen nearly everything in it.

During the absence of Mrs. Cliff she had made many visits to the house, and, as she was acquainted with the woman who had been left in charge, she had examined every room, from ground to roof, and had scrutinized and criticised the carpets as they had been laid and the furniture as it had been put in place.

She saw that Willy was beginning to shiver a little, and was well satisfied that she should feel cold. It would help take the conceit out of her. As for herself, she wore a warm cloak and did not mind a cold room.

"I'm told," she said, "that Mrs. Cliff's putting up a new stable. What was the matter with the old one?"

"It wasn't big enough," said Willy.

"It holds two horses, don't it, and what could anybody want more than that, I'd like to know!"

Willy was now getting a little out of temper.

"That's not enough for Mrs. Cliff," she said. "She's going to have a nice carriage and a pair of horses, and a regular coachman, not Andrew Marks!"

"Well!" said Miss Shott, and for a few moments she sat silent. Then she spoke. "I suppose Mrs. Cliff's goin' to take boarders."

"Boarders!" cried Willy. "What makes you say such a thing as that?"

"If she isn't," said Miss Shott, "I don't see what she'll do with all the rooms in that new part of the house."

"She's goin' to live in it," said Willy. "That's what she's goin' to do with it!"

"Boarders are very uncertain," remarked Miss Shott, "and just as likely to be a loss as a profit. Mr. Williams tried it at the hotel summer after summer, and if he couldn't make anything, I don't see how Mrs. Cliff can expect to."

"She doesn't expect to take boarders, and you know it!" said Willy.

Miss Shott folded her hands upon her lap.

"It's goin' to be a dreadful hard winter. I never did see so many acorns and chestnuts, and there's more cedar berries on the trees than I've ever known in all my life! I expect there'll be awful distress among the poor, and when I say 'poor' I don't mean people that's likely to suffer for food and a night's lodging, but respectable people who have to work hard and calculate day and night how to make both ends meet. These're the folks that're goin' to suffer in body and mind this winter; and if people that's got more money than they know what to do with, and don't care to save up for old age and a rainy day, would think sometimes of their deserving neighbors who have to pinch and suffer when they're going round buyin' rugs that must have cost at least as much as twenty dollars apiece and which they don't need at all, there bein' carpet already on the floor, it would be more to their credit and benefit to their fellow-beings. But, of course, one person's conscience isn't another person's, and we've each got to judge for ourselves, and be judged afterwards!"

Now Willy leaned forward in her chair, and her eyes glistened. As her body grew colder, so did her temper grow warmer.

"If it's Mrs. Cliff you're thinkin' about, Nancy Shott," said she, "I'll just tell you that you're as wrong as you can be! There isn't a more generous and a kinder person in this whole town than Mrs. Cliff is, and she isn't only that way to-day, but she's always been so, whether she's had little or whether she's had much!"

"What did she ever do, I'd like to know!" said Miss Nancy. "She's lined her own nest pretty well, but what's she ever done for anybody else—"

"Now, Nancy Shott," said Willy, "you know she's been doin' for other people all her life whenever she could! She's done for you more than once, as I happen to know,—and she's done for other neighbors and friends. And, more than that, she's gone abroad to do good, and that's more than anybody else in this town's done, as I know of!"

"She didn't go to South America to do good to anybody but herself," coolly remarked the visitor.

"I'm not thinking of that!" said Willy. "She went there on business, as everybody knows! But you remember well enough when she was in the city, and I was with her, when the dreadful cholera times came on! Everybody said that there wasn't a person who worked harder and did more for the poor people who were brought to the hospital than Sarah did.

"She worked for them night and day; before they were dead and after they were dead! I did what I could, but it wasn't nothin' to what she did! Both of us had been buyin' things, and makin' them up for ourselves, for cotton and linen goods was so cheap then. If it hadn't been for the troubles which came on, we'd had enough to last us for years! But Sarah Cliff isn't the kind of woman to keep things for herself when they're wanted by others, and when she had given everything that she had to those poor creatures at the hospitals, she took my things without as much as takin' the trouble to ask me, for in times like that she isn't the woman to hesitate when she thinks she's doin' what ought to be done, and at one time, in that hospital, there was eleven corpses in my night-gowns!"

"Horrible!" exclaimed Miss Shott, rising to her feet. "It would have killed me to think of such a thing as that!"

"Well, if it would have killed you," said Willy, "there was another night-gown left."

"If you're going to talk that way," said Miss Shott, "I might as well go. I supposed that when I came here I would at least have been treated civilly!"



CHAPTER XVI

MR. BURKE MAKES A CALL

Mrs. Cliff now began her life as a rich woman. The Thorpedykes were established in the new building; her carriage and horses, with a coachman in plain livery, were seen upon the streets of Plainton; she gave dinners and teas, and subscribed in a modestly open way to appropriate charities; she extended suitable aid to the members of Mrs. Ferguson's family, both living and departed; and the fact that she was willing to help in church work was made very plain by a remark of Miss Shott, who, upon a certain Sunday morning at the conclusion of services, happened to stop in front of Mrs. Cliff, who was going out of the church.

"Oh," said Miss Shott, suddenly stepping very much to one side, "I wouldn't have got in your way if I'd remembered that it was you who pays the new choir!"

Mr. Burke established himself in the Thorpedyke house, which he immediately repaired from top to bottom; but although he frequently repeated to himself and to his acquaintances that he had now set up housekeeping in just the way that he had always wished for, with plenty of servants to do everything just as he wanted it done, he was not happy nevertheless. He felt the loss of the stirring occupation which had so delighted him, and his active mind continually looked right and left for something to do.

He spoke with Mrs. Cliff in regard to the propriety of proposing to the Thorpedykes that he should build an addition to their house, declaring that such an addition would make the old mansion ever so much more valuable, and as to the cost, he would arrange that so that they would never feel the payment of it. But this suggestion met with no encouragement, and poor Burke was so hard put to it for something to occupy his mind that one day he asked Mrs. Cliff if she had entirely given up her idea of employing some of her fortune for the benefit of the native Peruvians, stating that if she wanted an agent to go down there and to attend to that sort of thing, he believed he would be glad to go himself.

But Mrs. Cliff did not intend to send anything to the native Peruvians. According to the arrangements that Captain Horn had made for their benefit they would have as large a share of the Incas' gold as they could possibly claim, and, therefore, she did not feel herself called upon to do anything. "If we had kept it all," she said, "that would have been a different thing!"

In fact, Mrs. Cliff's conscience was now in a very easy and satisfied condition. She did not feel that she owed anything to her fellow-beings that she was not giving them, or that she owed anything to herself that she was not giving to herself. The expenses of building and of the improvements to her spacious grounds had been of so much assistance in removing the plethora of her income that she was greatly encouraged. She felt that she now had her fortune under control, and that she herself might be able to manage it for the future. Already she was making her plans for the next year.

Many schemes she had for the worthy disposition of her wealth, and the more she thought of them and planned their details, the less inclined she felt to leave for an hour or two her spacious and sumptuous apartments in the new building and go back to her little former home where she might think of old times and relieve her mind from the weight of the novelty and the richness of her new dining-room and its adjuncts.

Often as she sat in her stately drawing-room she longed for her old friend Edna, and wished that she and the Captain might come and see how well she had used her share of the great fortune.

But Captain Horn and his wife were far away. Mrs. Cliff had frequent letters from Edna, which described their leisurely and delightful travels in the south and west. Their minds and bodies had been so strained and tired by hard thinking and hard work that all they wanted now was an enjoyment of life and the world as restful and as tranquil as they could make it. After a time they would choose some happy spot, and make for themselves a home. Three of the negroes, Maka and Cheditafa and Mok, were with them, and the others had been left on a farm where they might study methods of American agriculture until the time should come when the Captain should require their services on his estate.

Ralph was in Boston, where, in spite of his independent ideas in regard to his education, he was preparing himself to enter Harvard.

"I know what the Captain means when he speaks of settling down!" said Burke when he heard of this. "He'll buy a canon and two or three counties and live out there like a lord! And if he does that, I'll go out and see him. I want to see this Inca money sprouting and flourishing a good deal more than it has done yet!"

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Cliff. "Don't you call this splendid house and everything in it a sign of sprouting and flourishing?"

"Oh, my dear madam," said Burke, rising from his seat and walking the floor, "if you could have looked through the hole in the top of the mound and have seen under you cartloads and cartloads of pure gold, and had let your mind rest on what might have grown out of it, a house like this would have seemed like an acorn on an oak tree!"

"And you think the Captain will have the oak tree?" she asked.

"Yes," said Burke; "I think he's the sort of man to want it, and if he wants it he'll have it!"

There were days when the weather was very bad and time hung unusually heavy upon Mr. Burke's hands, when he thought it might be a good thing to get married. He had a house and money enough to keep a wife as well as any woman who would have him had any reason to expect. But there were two objections to this plan. In the first place, what would he do with his wife after he got tired of living in the Thorpedyke house; and secondly, where could he find anybody he would like to marry?

He had female acquaintances in Plainton, but not one of them seemed to have the qualifications he would desire in a wife. Willy Croup was a good-natured and pleasant woman, and he always liked to talk to her, but she was too old for him. He might like to adopt her as a maiden aunt, but then that would not be practicable, for Mrs. Cliff would not be willing to give her up.

At this time Burke would have gone to make a visit to his mother, but there was also an objection to this. He would not have dared to present himself before her in his fur-trimmed overcoat and his high silk hat. She was a true sailor's mother, and she would have laughed him to scorn, and so habituated had he become to the dress of a fine gentleman that it would have seriously interfered with his personal satisfaction to put on the rough winter clothes in which his mother would expect to see him.

The same reason prevented him from going to his old friend Shirley. He knew very well that Shirley did not wear a high silk hat and carry a cane, and he had a sufficient knowledge of human nature and of himself to know that if his present personal appearance were made the subject of ridicule, or even inordinate surprise, it would not afford him the same stimulating gratification which he now derived from it.

Fortunately the weather grew colder, and there was snow and excellent sleighing, and now Burke sent for a fine double sleigh, and, with a fur cap, a great fur collar over his overcoat, fur gloves, and an enormous lap-robe of fur, he jingled and glided over the country in great delight, enjoying the sight of the fur-garbed coachman in front of him almost as much as the glittering snow and the crisp fresh air.

He invited the ladies of the Cliff mansion to accompany him in these sleigh-rides, but although the Misses Thorpedyke did not fancy such cold amusement, Mrs. Cliff and Willy went with him a few times, and once Willy accompanied him alone.

This positively decided the opinion of Plainton in regard to his reason for living in that town. But there were those who said that he might yet discover that his plans would not succeed. Mrs. Cliff now seemed to be in remarkably good health, and as it was not likely that Mr. Burke would actually propose marriage to Willy until he saw some signs of failing in Mrs. Cliff, he might have to wait a long, long time; during which his intended victim would probably grow so wrinkled and old that even the most debased of fortune-hunters would refuse to have her. Then, of course, the fine gentleman would find out that he had lost all the time he had spent scheming here in Plainton.

The Buskirks were spending this winter in their country home, and one afternoon Mr. Burke thought he would drive up in his sleigh and make a call upon them. He had been there before, but had seen no one, and some weeks afterward Mr. Buskirk had dropped in at the hotel, but had not found him. This sort of visiting did not suit our friend Burke, and he determined to go and see what a Buskirk was really like.

Having jingled and pranced up to the front of the handsome mansion on the hill, and having been informed that the gentleman of the house was not at home, he asked for his lady, and, as she was in, he was ushered into a parlor. Here, having thrown aside some of his superincumbent furs, George Burke sat and looked about him. He had plenty of time for observation, for it was long before Mrs. Buskirk made her appearance.

With the exception of Mrs. Cliff's house, with which he had had so much to do, Burke had never before been inside a dwelling belonging to a very rich person, and the Buskirk mansion interested him very much. Although he was so little familiar with fine furniture, pictures, and bric-a-brac, he was a man of quick perceptions and good judgment, and it did not take him long to discover that the internal furnishings of the Buskirk house were far inferior to those of the addition to Mrs. Cliff's old home.

The room in which he sat was large and pretentious, but when it had been furnished there had been no lady of good family accustomed to the furnishings of wealth and culture, and with an artistic taste gained in travel at home and abroad, to superintend the selection of these pictures, this carpet, and the coverings of this furniture!

He laughed within himself as he sat, his fur cape on his knees and his silk hat in his hand, and he was so elated and pleased with the knowledge of the superiority of Mrs. Cliff's home over this house of the proud city people who had so long looked down upon Plainton, that he entirely forgot his intention of recalling, as he sat in the fine parlor of the Buskirks, the olden times when he used to get up early in the morning and swab the deck.

"These people ought to come down and see Mrs. Cliff's house," thought Burke, "and I'll make them do it if I can!"

When Mrs. Buskirk, a lady who had always found it necessary to place strong guards around her social position, made her appearance, she received her visitor with an attentive civility. She had been impressed by his appearance when she had seen him grandly careering in his barouche or his sleigh, and she was still more impressed as she saw him in her parlor with additional furs. She had heard he had been a sailor, but now as she talked to him, the belief grew upon her that he might yet make a very good sailor. He was courteous, entirely at his ease, and perhaps a little too bland, and Mrs. Buskirk thought that although her husband might like to sit and smoke with this well-dressed, sun-burned man, he was not a person very desirable for the society of herself and daughters.

But she was willing to sit and talk to Mr. Burke, for she wanted to ask him some questions about Mrs. Cliff. She had heard about that lady's new house, or rather the improvement to her old one, and she had driven past it, and she did not altogether understand the state of affairs.

She had known that Mrs. Cliff was a widow of a storekeeper of the town, and that she had come into possession of a portion of a treasure which had been discovered somewhere in the West Indies or South America, but those portions of treasures which might be allotted to the widow of a storekeeper in a little country town were not likely to be very much, and Mrs. Buskirk was anxious to know something definite about Mrs. Cliff's present circumstances.

Burke felt a little embarrassed in regard to his answers. He knew that Mrs. Cliff was very anxious not to appear as a millionnaire in the midst of the friends and associations of her native town,—at least, that she did not desire to do so until her real financial position had been gradually understood and accepted. Nothing she would dislike so much as to be regarded as the people in her social circle regarded the Buskirks on the hill.

So Burke did not blaze out as he would have liked to do with a true and faithful statement of Mrs. Cliff's great wealth,—far in excess, he was very sure, of that of the fine lady with whom he was talking,—but he said everything he could in a modest way, or what seemed so to him, in regard to his friend's house and belongings.

"But it seems to me," said Mrs. Buskirk, "that it's a very strange thing for any one to build a house, such as the one you describe, in such a neighborhood, when there are so many desirable locations on the outskirts of the town. The houses on the opposite side of the street are very small, some of them even mean; if I am not mistaken there is a little shop somewhere along there! I should consider that that sort of thing would spoil any house, no matter how good it might be in itself!"

"Oh, that makes no difference whatever!" said Burke, with a wave of his hand, and delighted to remember a proposition he had made to Mrs. Cliff and which she had viewed with favor. "Mrs. Cliff will soon settle all that! She's going to buy that whole block opposite to her and make a park of it. She'll clear away all the houses and everything belonging to them, and she'll plant trees, and lay out lawns and driveways, and have a regular landscape gardener who'll superintend everything. And she's going to have the water brought in pipes which will end in some great rocks, which we'll have hauled from the woods, and from under these rocks a brook will flow and meander through the park. And there'll be flowers, and reeds, and rushes, and, very likely, a fountain with the spare water.

"And that'll be a public park for the use of the whole town, and you can see for yourself, madam, that it'll be a grand thing to look out from Mrs. Cliff's windows on such a beautiful place! It will be fitted up and railed off very much after the style of her own grounds, so that the whole thing will be like a great estate right in the middle of the town. She's thinkin' of callin' the park 'The Grove of the Incas.' That sounds nice; don't you think so, madam?"

"It sounds very well indeed," said Mrs. Buskirk. She had heard before of plans made by people who had suddenly come into possession of money.

Burke saw that he had not yet made the impression that he desired. He wanted, without actually saying so, to let this somewhat supercilious lady know that if the possession of money was a reason for social position,—and he knew of no other reason for the Buskirks' position,—Mrs. Cliff would be aft, talking to the Captain while the Buskirks would be walking about by themselves amidship.

But he did not know how to do this. He knew it would be no use to talk about horses and carriages, and all that sort of thing, for these the Buskirks possessed, and their coachman wore top boots,—a thing Mrs. Cliff would never submit to. He was almost on the point of relinquishing his attempt to make Mrs. Buskirk call upon the widow of the storekeeper, when the lady helped him by asking in a casual way if Mrs. Cliff proposed living winter and summer in her new house.

"No," said Burke, "not in the summer. I hear Plainton is pretty hot in the summer, and she'll go—" (Oh, a radiant thought came to him!) "I expect she'll cruise about in her yacht during the warm weather."

"Her yacht!" exclaimed Mrs. Buskirk, for the first time exhibiting marks of actual interest. "Has Mrs. Cliff a yacht?"

"She's going to have one," said Burke to himself, "and I'll put her up to it before I go home this day."

"Yes," he said aloud, "that is, she hasn't got it yet, but she's going to have it as soon as the season opens. I shall select it for her. I know all about yachts and every other kind of craft, and she'll have one of the very finest on this coast. She's a good sailor, Mrs. Cliff is, for I've cruised with her! And nothing will she enjoy better in hot weather than her noble yacht and the open sea!"

Now this did make an impression upon Mrs. Buskirk. A citizen of Plainton who possessed a yacht was not to be disregarded. After this she was rather abstracted, and the conversation fell off. Burke saw that it was time for him to go, and as he had now said all he cared to say, he was willing to do so.

In parting with him Mrs. Buskirk was rather more gracious than when she received him. "I hope when you call again," she said, "that you may find my husband at home. I know he will be glad to see you!"

As Burke jingled and pranced away he grinned behind his great fur collar. "She'll call!" said he to himself. "She'll call on the yacht if she doesn't call on anything else!"



CHAPTER XVII

MRS. CLIFF'S YACHT

When the interview with Mrs. Buskirk was reported that afternoon to Mrs. Cliff, the good lady sat aghast. "I've decided about the park," she said, "and that is all very well. But what do you mean by a yacht? What could be more ridiculous than to talk about me and a yacht!"

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Burke. "It's nothing of the kind! The more I think of the idea, the better I like it, and if you'll think of it soberly, I believe you'll like it just as much as I do! In the first place, you've got to do something to keep your money from being dammed up and running all over everything. This house and furniture cleared away things for a time, but the whole business will be just as much clogged up as it was before if you don't look out. I don't want to give advice, but it does strike me that anybody as rich as you are oughtn't to feel that they could afford to sit still here in Plainton, year in and year out, no matter how fine a house they might have! They ought to think of that great heap of gold in the mound and feel that it was their duty to get all the grand and glorious good out of it that they knew how!"

"But it does seem to me," said Mrs. Cliff, "that a yacht would be an absolute extravagance and waste of money. And, you know, I have firmly determined I will not waste my money."

"To call sittin' in a beautiful craft, on a rollin' sea, with a spankin' breeze, a waste of money, is something I can't get into my brain!" said Mr. Burke. "But you could do good with a yacht. You could take people out on cruises who would never get out if you didn't take them! And now I've an idea! It's just come to me. You might get a really big yacht. If I was you, I'd have a steam yacht, because you'd have more control over that than you'd have over a sailin'-vessel, and besides a person can get tired of sailin'-vessels, as I've found out myself. And then you might start a sort of summer shelter for poor people; not only very poor people, but respectable people, who never get a chance to sniff salt air. And you might spend part of the summer in giving such people what would be the same as country weeks, only you'd take them out to sea instead of shipping them inland to dawdle around farms. I tell you that's a splendid idea, and nobody's done it."

Day after day, the project of the yacht was discussed by Mrs. Cliff and Burke, and she was beginning to view its benevolent features with a degree of favor when Mrs. Buskirk called. That lady's visit was prompted partly by a curiosity to see what sort of a woman was the widow of the Plainton storekeeper who would cruise the next summer in her yacht; and partly by a feeling that to such a person a certain amount of respect was due even from a Buskirk.

But when she entered the house, passed through the great hall, and seated herself in the drawing-room, she saw more than she had expected to see. She saw a house immeasurably better fitted out and furnished than her own. She knew the value of the rugs which Miss Shott had declared must have cost at least twenty dollars each, and she felt, although she did not thoroughly appreciate, the difference in artistic merit between the pictures upon her walls and the masterly paintings which had been selected by the ladies Thorpedyke for the drawing-room of Mrs. Cliff.

The discovery startled her. She must talk to her husband about it as soon as he reached home. It was not only money, but a vast deal of money, and something more, which had done all this.

She had asked for the ladies, knowing that Mrs. Cliff did not live alone, and all the ladies were at home. Amid those surroundings, the elder Miss Thorpedyke, most carefully arrayed, made an impression upon Mrs. Buskirk very different from that she had produced on the occasion of their single former interview in the darkened little parlor of the Thorpedyke house.

Mrs. Cliff, in a costume quite simple, but as rich as her conscience would allow, felt within herself all the uplifting influence of her wealth, as she stepped forward to salute this lady who had always been so uplifted by her wealth.

In the course of the conversation, the yacht was mentioned. The visitor would not go away without being authoritatively informed upon this subject.

"Oh yes," said Mrs. Cliff, promptly, "I shall have a yacht next summer. Mr. Burke will select one for me, and I know it will be a good one, for he thoroughly understands such matters."

Before she left, Mrs. Buskirk invited Mrs. Cliff, the Misses Thorpedyke, and Miss Croup to take luncheon with her quite informally on the following Tuesday. She would have made it a dinner, but in that case her husband would have been at home, and it would have been necessary to invite Mr. Burke, and she was not yet quite sure about Mr. Burke.

This invitation, which soon became known throughout the town, decided the position of Mrs. Cliff at Plainton. When that lady and her family had gone, with her carriage and pair, to the mansion of the Buskirks on the hill, and had there partaken of luncheon, very informally, in company with three of the most distinguished ladies of Harrington, who had also been invited very informally; and when the news of the magnificent repast which had been served on the occasion, with flowers from the greenhouse nearly covering the table, with everything tied up with ribbons which could possibly be so decorated, and with a present for each guest ingeniously concealed under her napkin, floated down into the town, there was no woman in that place who could put her hand upon her heart and honestly declare that hereafter Mrs. Cliff could look up to anybody in Plainton.

This recognition, which soon became obvious to Mrs. Cliff, was a source of genuine gratification to that good lady. She had never been inclined to put herself above her neighbors on account of her fortune, and would have been extremely grieved if she had been convinced that her wealth would oblige her to assume a superior position but when that wealth gradually and easily, without creating any disturbance or commotion in her circle, raised her of itself, without any action on her part, to the peak of social eminence in her native place, her genuine satisfaction was not interfered with in the least degree by her conscience. Her position had come to her, and she had assumed it as if she had been born to it.

But whenever she thought of her preeminence,—and she did not think of it nearly so often as other people thought of it,—she determined that it should make no difference to her; and when next she gave a high tea,—not the grand repast to which she intended to invite the Buskirks on the hill,—she invited Miss Cushing. Now, there were people in Plainton who did not invite the dressmaker to their table, but Mrs. Cliff had asked her when they were all poor together, and she would have her now again when they were not all poor together.

As the winter went on, Burke became more and more interested in Mrs. Cliff's yacht, and if he had not had this subject to talk about, and plan about, and to go at all hours to see Mrs. Cliff about, it is likely that he would have been absolutely obliged to leave Plainton for want of occupation. But the idea of commanding a steam yacht was attraction enough to keep him where he could continually consider it.

He assured Mrs. Cliff that it was not at all necessary to wait until pleasant weather before undertaking this great enterprise. As soon as the harbors were reasonably free of ice it would be well for him to go and look at yachts, and then when he found one which suited him, Mrs. Cliff could go and look at it, and if it suited her, it could be immediately put into commission. They could steam down into southern waters, and cruise about there. The spring up here in the north was more disagreeable than any other season of the year, and why should they not go and spend that season in the tranquil and beautiful waters of Florida or the West Indies?

Mrs. Cliff had now fully determined to become the owner of a yacht, but she would not do so unless she saw her way clear to carry out the benevolent features of the plan which Mr. Burke had suggested.

"What I want," said Mrs. Cliff, "is to have the whole thing understood! I am perfectly willing to spend some of the pleasant months sailing about the coast and feeling that I'm giving health and pleasure to poor and deserving people, especially children, but I am not willing to consider myself a rich woman who keeps an expensive yacht just for the pleasure of cruising around when she feels like it! But I do like the plan of giving country weeks at sea."

"Very good, madam," he said, "and we can fix that thing so that nobody can possibly make any mistake about it. What do you say to calling your yacht the Summer Shelter? We'll paint the name in white letters on the bows and stern, and nobody can take us for idle sea-loafers with more money than we know what to do with!"

"I like that!" said Mrs. Cliff, her face brightening. "You may buy me a yacht as soon as you please, and we'll call her the Summer Shelter!"

In consequence of this order, Mr. Burke departed from Plainton the next day, and began a series of expeditions to the seaport towns on the Atlantic coast in search of a steam yacht for sale.

The winter grew colder, and the weather was very bad; there were heavy snows and drifts, and many hardships. There were cases of privations and suffering, and never did she hear of one of these cases that a thankful glow did not warm the heart of Mrs. Cliff as she thought that she was able to relieve it.

But Mrs. Cliff knew, and if she had not known she would have soon found out, that it was often very difficult to relieve distress of body without causing distress of mind, but she and Willy and the Misses Thorpedyke had known all phases of the evil which has its root in the want of money, and they always considered people's sensibilities when they held charitable councils. There was one case in which Mrs. Cliff felt that she must be very careful indeed.

Old Nancy Shott was not standing the winter well. She had a bad cold, and was confined to her bed, and one day Miss Inchman mentioned, during a call on Mrs. Cliff, that she did not believe the poor old thing was able to keep herself warm. She had been to see her, and the coverings on her bed were very insufficient she thought.

The Shotts never did keep a warm house, nor did they care to spend their money upon warm clothes; but although that sort of thing might do very well while they were in health and were constantly on the move, it did not do when they were sick in bed. When Miss Inchman had gone, Mrs. Cliff called Willy.

"Where are we using those California blankets which I brought home with me?" she asked.

"Using them!" exclaimed Willy. "We aren't using them anywhere! I'm sure nobody would think of using such blankets as those, except when some extra company might happen to come. It ought to be a long time before those blankets would have to go into the wash, and I've kept them covered up on the top shelf of the linen closet!"

"Well, I wish you would go and get them," said Mrs. Cliff, "and then wrap them up and take them to Miss Shott as a present from me."

"Take them to Nancy Shott!" cried Willy. "I never heard of such a thing in my life! She's able to buy blankets, dozens of them if she wants them, and to take to her such blankets as the ones you brought from California,—why it takes my breath away to think of it!"

"But you must take them to her," said Mrs. Cliff. "She may be stingy, but she is suffering, and I want her to have those blankets because they are the very best that I could possibly send her. You can get Andrew Marks to drive you there, but stop two or three doors from the house. She will think you are putting on airs if you drive up to the door. And I wish you would give her the blankets just as if it was a matter of course that anybody would send things to a sick person."

"Oh yes!" said Willy. "As if you hadn't a pot of jelly to spare and so sent her these blankets fit for an Emperor on his throne!"

That very evening the reluctant Willy took the blankets to Miss Shott, for Mrs. Cliff knew it was going to be a very cold night, and she wanted her to have them as soon as possible.

When Nancy Shott beheld the heavy and beautiful fabrics of fine wool which Willy spread out upon her bed in order that she might better examine them, the eyes of the poor old woman flashed with admiring delight.

"Well," said she, "Sarah Cliff has got a memory!"

"What do you mean?" asked Willy.

"Why, she remembers," said Miss Shott, "that I once joined in to give her a pair of blankets!"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Willy, and she was on the point of speaking her mind in regard to the salient points in the two transactions, but she refrained. The poor old thing was sick, and she must not say anything to excite her.

"I suppose," said Miss Shott, after lifting a corner of a blanket and rubbing and pinching it, "that these are all wool!"

Then Willy thought herself privileged to speak, and for some minutes she dilated on the merits of those superb blankets, the like of which were not to be found in the whole State, and, perhaps, not in any State east of the Rocky Mountains.

"Well," said Miss Shott, "you may tell her that I will not throw her present back at her as she once threw one back at me! And now that you're here, Willy Croup, I may as well say to you what I've intended to say to you the next time I saw you. And that is, that when I was at your house you told me an out and out falsehood,—I won't use any stronger word than that,—and how you could sleep after having done it I'm sure I don't know!"

"Falsehood!" cried Willy. "What do you mean?"

"You told me," said Nancy, "that Mrs. Cliff wasn't goin' to take boarders,—and now look at those Thorpedykes! Not two days after you tried to deceive me they went there to board! And now what have you got to say to that?"

Willy had not a word to say. She sprang to her feet, she glared at the triumphant woman in the bed, and, turning, went downstairs.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE DAWN OF THE GROVE OF THE INCAS

A man may have command of all the money necessary, and he may have plenty of knowledge and experience in regard to the various qualities of sea-going vessels, but even with these great advantages he may find it a very difficult thing to buy, ready to his hand, a suitable steam yacht. The truth of this statement was acknowledged by Mr. Burke after he had spent nearly a month in Boston, New York, and various points between these cities, and, after advertising, inquiring, and investigating the subject in all possible ways, found nothing which he could recommend Mrs. Cliff to purchase.

He wrote to her a great many letters during this period, all of which were interesting, although there were portions of many of them which she did not quite understand, being expressed in a somewhat technical fashion. Burke liked to write letters. It was a novel experience for him to have time to write and something to write about. He had been better educated than the ordinary sailor, and his intelligence and habits of observation enabled him to supplement to a considerable extent what he had learned at school. His spelling and grammar were sometimes at fault, but his handwriting was extremely plain and distinct, and Willy Croup, who always read his letters, declared that it was much better to write plainly than to be always correct in other respects, for what was the good of proper spelling and grammar if people could not make out what was written?

Mrs. Cliff was not at all disturbed by the delay in the purchase of a yacht; for, according to her idea, it would be a long time yet before it was pleasant to sail upon the sea, and if it was interesting to Mr. Burke to go from place to place and have interviews with ship-owners and sea-faring people, she was glad that she was able to give him an opportunity to do so.

As for herself, she was in a pleasant state of feminine satisfaction. Without any sort of presumption or even effort on her part she had attained a high and unquestioned position among her fellow-citizens, and her mind was not set upon maintaining that position by worthy and unoffensive methods of using her riches.

She now had a definite purpose in life. If she could make herself happy and a great many other people happy, and only a few people envious or jealous, and, at the same time, feel that she was living and doing things as a person of good common sense and great wealth ought to live and do things, what more could be expected of her in this life?

Thus backed up by her conscience and her check-book, she sat, morning after morning, before a cheerful fire of hickory logs and outlined her career. This was in the parlor of her old house, which she now determined to use as an office or business-room. She could afford the warmest fire of the best seasoned wood; her chimney was in perfect order, and she was but fifty-five years old and in excellent health;—why should she not enjoy the exhilarating blaze, and plan for years of exhilarating occupation.

Soon after Mr. Burke left Plainton Mrs. Cliff began work upon the new park. This she could do without his assistance, and it was work the mere contemplation of which delighted her. She had legal assistance in regard to the purchase of the grounds and buildings of the opposite block, and while this was in the hands of her lawyers, she was in daily consultation with an eminent landscape-constructor who had come to Plainton for the purpose. He lodged at the hotel, and drew most beautiful plans of the proposed park.

In the happy morning hours during which Mrs. Cliff's mind wandered over the beautiful drives, or stood upon the rustic bridges which crossed the stream dashing among its rocks and spreading itself out into placid pools; or when, mentally, she sat in the shade of the great trees and looked out upon the wide stretches of verdant lawn, relieved by the brilliant colors of the flower-beds, she often felt it was almost the same thing as if it were actually summer, and that she really saw the beautiful grass and flowers, heard the babbling of the stream, and felt the refreshing breezes which rustled the great limbs of the trees.

She did not selfishly keep these pleasures to herself, but often on the stormy evenings, she and Willy and the Misses Thorpedyke would go over the brilliantly colored plans of the Incas' Grove, admire what had been proposed, and suggest things which they thought would be desirable. Miss Thorpedyke, who had a vivid recollection of the gardens of Luxemburg, spoke of many of their beautiful and classic features which she would recommend for the new park if it were not that they would cost so much money. All these were noted down with great care by Mrs. Cliff, and mentioned to the landscape-constructor the next day.

Thus at home, in church circles, in the society of the town, and in the mental contemplation of the charming landscape which in consequence of her own will and command would soon spread itself out before her windows, Mrs. Cliff was very happy. But among all her sources of enjoyment there was nothing, perhaps, which pleased her better than to think on a cold winter's night, when the piercing winds were roaring about the house, that poor old Nancy Shott was lying warm and comfortable under two of the finest blankets which ever came from Californian looms.

The great object of Willy Croup's thoughts at this time was not the park,—for she could not properly appreciate trees and grass in this shivery weather,—but the entertainment, the grand lunch, or the very high tea which was to be given to Mrs. Buskirk and daughters on the hill. This important event had been postponed because the sleighing had become rather bad and the Buskirks had gone to the city.

But as soon as they returned, Willy hoped with all her heart that Mrs. Cliff would be able to show them what may be done in the line of hospitable entertainment by people who had not only money but something more. There had been a time when Willy thought that when people wished to entertain there was nothing needed but money, but then she had not lived in the house with the Misses Thorpedyke, and had not heard them and Mrs. Cliff discuss such matters.

The peace of mind of Mrs. Cliff was disturbed one day by the receipt of a letter from Mr. Burke, who wrote from New York and informed her that he had found a yacht which he believed would suit her, and he wished very much that she would come and look at it before he completed the purchase.

Mrs. Cliff did not wish to go to New York and look at yachts. She had then under consideration the plan of a semicircular marble terrace which was to overlook one end of a shaded lakelet, which Mr. Humphreys, her professional adviser, assured her she could have just as well as not, by means of a dam, and she did not wish to interrupt this most interesting occupation. Mr. Humphreys had procured photographs of some of the romantic spots of the Luxemburg, and Mrs. Cliff felt within herself the gladdening impulses of a good magician as she planned the imitation of all this classic beauty.

Besides, it was the middle of March, and cold, and not at all the season in which she would be able to properly appreciate the merits of a yacht. Still, as Mr. Burke had found the vessel and wanted her to see it, and as there was a possibility, he had written, that delay might cause her to lose the opportunity of getting what she wanted, and as she was very desirous of pleasing him, she decided that she and Willy would go to New York and look at the vessel.

It would not take long, because, of course, Mr. Burke had already found out everything that was necessary in regard to its sea-going qualities, and a great many other things of which she would not be a judge. In fact, it was not necessary for her to go at all; but as she was to pay for it, Mr. Burke would be better satisfied if first she saw it.

It was very pleasant to think that she could go away whenever she pleased and leave her house in the care of two such ladies as Miss Eleanor Thorpedyke and her sister.



CHAPTER XIX

THE "SUMMER SHELTER"

When Mrs. Cliff and Willy, as well wrapped up in handsome furs as Mr. Burke himself, who accompanied them, left their New York hotel to drive over to Brooklyn and examine the yacht which had been selected, Willy's mind vainly endeavored to form within itself an image of the object of the expedition.

She was so thoroughly an inland woman and had so little knowledge of matters connected with the sea, that when she first heard the mention of the yacht it had brought into her mind the idea of an Asiatic animal, with long hair and used as a beast of burden, which she had read about in her school-books. But when she had discovered that the object in question was a vessel and not a bovine ruminant, her mind carried her no farther than to a pleasure boat with a sail to it.

Even Mrs. Cliff, who had travelled, had inadequate ideas concerning a steam yacht. She had seen the small steamers which ran upon the Seine, and she had taken little trips upon them; and if she had given the subject careful consideration she might have thought that the yacht intended for the use of a private individual would be somewhat smaller than one of these.

It would be difficult, therefore, to imagine the surprise and even amazement of Mrs. Cliff and Willy Croup when they beheld the vessel to which Mr. Burke conducted them. It was in fact a sea-going steamer of small comparative size, it is true, but of towering proportions when compared with the ideals in the minds of the two female citizens of Plainton who had come, the one to view it and the other to buy it.

"Before we go on board," said Mr. Burke, as he proudly stood upon the pier, holding fast to his silk hat in the cold breeze which swept along the water front, "I want you to take a general look at her! I don't suppose you know anything about her lines and build, but I can tell you they're all right! But you can see for yourselves that she's likely to be a fine, solid, comfortable craft, and won't go pitchin' and tossin' around like the crafts that some people go to sea in!"

"Why, the name is on it!" cried Willy. "Summer Shelter! How did you happen to find one with that name, Mr. Burke?"

"Oh, I didn't!" said he. "She had another name, but I wanted you to see her just as she'd look if she really belonged to you,—so I had the other name painted out and this put on in good big white letters that can be seen for a long distance. If you don't buy her, Mrs. Cliff, of course I'll have the old name put back again. Now what do you think of her, Mrs. Cliff, lookin' at her from this point of view?"

The good lady stood silent. She gazed at the long high hull of the steamer, she looked up at the black smokestack, and at the masts which ran up so shapely and so far, and her soul rose higher than it had been uplifted even by the visions of the future Grove of the Incas.

"I think it is absolutely splendid!" said she. "Let us go in!"

"On board, madam," said Burke, gently correcting her. "This way to the gang-plank!"

For nearly two hours Mrs. Cliff and Willy wandered over the upper and lower decks of the yacht; examined its pretty little state-rooms; sat excitedly upon the sofas of its handsomely decorated saloon; examined the folding tables and all the other wonderful things which shut themselves up out of the way when they were not needed; tapped the keys of the piano; investigated the storerooms, lockers, and all the marine domestic conveniences, and forgot it was winter, forgot that the keen wind nearly blew their bonnets off as they walked the upper deck, and felt what a grand thing it would be to sail upon the sea upon such a noble vessel.

To all this there was added in Mrs. Cliff's mind the proud feeling that it would be her own, and in it she could go wherever she pleased and come back again when it suited her.

Willy, who had never been to sea, was perfectly free to form an idea of an ocean voyage as delightful and charming as she pleased, and this she did with great enthusiasm. Even had it been necessary that this perfectly lovely vessel should remain moored at the pier, it would have given joy to her soul to live in it, to sleep in one of those sweet little rooms, and to eat, and read, and sew in that beautiful saloon.

"Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Cliff, "I don't believe you could find any vessel better suited to our purpose than this one, and I wish you would buy it!"

"Madam," said Burke, "I'll do it immediately! And I tell you, madam, that this is a wonderful chance for this time of the year when yachts and pleasure crafts in this part of the world are generally laid up and can't be seen properly; and what's more, would have to be docked and overhauled generally before they would be ready for sea. But here is a yacht that's been cruising down south and in the West Indies and has just come up here, and is all ready to go to sea again whenever you like it. If you don't mind going home by yourselves, I'll go to the office of the agent of the owner, and settle the business at once!"

It would have been impossible for any purchase or any possession of palace, pyramid, or principality to make prouder the heart of Mrs. Cliff than did the consciousness that she was the owner of a fine sea vessel worked by steam. She acknowledged to herself that if she had been at home she could not have prevented herself from putting on those airs which she had been so anxious to avoid. But these would wear off very soon she knew, and so long as there was no one, except Willy, to notice a possible change of manner, it did not matter.

Now that Mrs. Cliff and Willy were in New York they both agreed that it would be well for them to attend to some shopping for which they had intended coming to the city later in the spring. It had been found that there were many things wanted to supplement the furnishing of the new house, and to the purchase of these the two ladies now devoted their mornings.

But every afternoon, in company with Mr. Burke, they went on board the Summer Shelter to see what he had been doing and to consult with him about what he was going to do. It was astonishing how many little things were needed to be done to a yacht just returned from a cruise, and how interesting all these things were to Mrs. Cliff and Willy, considering that they knew so little about them.

The engineer and fireman had not been discharged, but were acting as watchmen, and Burke strongly recommended that they should be engaged immediately, because, as he said, if Mrs. Cliff were to let them go it would be difficult to get such men again. "It was a little expensive, to be sure, but when a yacht is not laid up," he said, "there should always be men aboard of her." And so the painting, and the cleaning, and the necessary fitting up went on, and Mr. Burke was very happy, and Mrs. Cliff was very proud, although the external manifestation of this feeling was gradually wearing off.

"I don't want to give advice, madam," said Burke one evening, as the little party sat together discussing nautical matters, "but if I was in your place, I wouldn't go back to Plainton before I had taken a little trial trip on the yacht. It doesn't matter a bit about the weather! After we get out to sea it will be only a few days before we find we're in real spring weather and the warm water of the Gulf Stream. We can touch at Savannah, and cruise along the Florida coast, and then go over to the Bahamas, and look around as long as we feel like! And when we get back here it will be beginning to be milder, and then you can go home and arrange for the voyages you're goin' to make in her during the summer!"

Mrs. Cliff considered. This was a tempting proposition. And while she considered, Willy sat and looked at her with glowing cheeks and half-open mouth. It would not have required one second for her to decide such a question.

"You know," said Mr. Burke, "it wouldn't take me long to get her ready for sea. I could soon coal her and put her stores aboard, and as to a crew, I can get one in no time. We could leave port in a week just as well as not!"

"Let's go!" said Willy, seizing the hand of her friend. "It need only be a little trip, just to see how it would all feel."

Mrs. Cliff smiled. "Very good," said she, "we'll take a little trial trip just as soon as you are ready, Captain Burke! That is, if you have not made any plans which will prevent you from accepting the position."

"Madam," said Burke, springing to his feet and standing proudly before Mrs. Cliff, "I'd throw up the command of the finest liner on the Atlantic to be captain of the Summer Shelter for this summer! I see far more fun ahead in the cruises that you're going to make than in any voyage I've looked forward to yet; and when people have a chance to mix fun and charity as we're goin' to mix them, I say such people ought to call themselves lucky! This is Wednesday! Well now, madam, by next Wednesday the Summer Shelter will be all fitted out for the cruise, and she'll be ready to sail out of the harbor at whatever hour you name, for the tide won't make any difference to her!"

"There is only one thing I don't like about the arrangement," said Mrs. Cliff, when the Captain had left them, "and that is, that we will have to take this trip by ourselves. It seems a pity for three people to go sailing around in a big vessel like that with most of the state-rooms empty; but, of course, people are not prepared yet for country weeks at sea! And it will take some time to make my plans known in the proper quarters."

"I don't suppose," said Willy, "that there's anybody in Plainton that we could send for on short notice. People there want so much time to get ready to do anything!"

"But there is nobody in the town that I would care to take on a first voyage," said Mrs. Cliff. "You know, something might go wrong and we would have to come back, and if it is found necessary to do that, I don't want any Plainton people on board!"

"No indeed!" exclaimed Willy, her mind involuntarily running towards Nancy Shott, to whom a voyage to the West Indies would doubtless be of great service. "Don't let's bother about anything of that kind! Let's make the first trip by ourselves! I think that will be glorious!"



CHAPTER XX

THE SYNOD

As most of Mrs. Cliff's business in New York was now finished, and as she and Willy were waiting there only for the yacht to be made ready for sea, she had a good deal of time on her hands.

On the Saturday following her decision to make a trial trip on the Summer Shelter, when returning from the daily visit to the yacht, Mrs. Cliff stopped in at a Brooklyn church in which a Synod was at that time convened. She had read of the proceedings of this body in the papers, and, as the deliberations concerned her own denomination, she thought she would be interested in them. Willy, however, preferred to go on by herself to New York, as she had something to do there which she thought would be more to her taste than the proceedings of a Synod.

It was not long after she had been seated in the church that Mrs. Cliff began to regret that she had not attended some of the earlier meetings, for the questions debated were those in which she took an interest.

After a time she saw near her Mrs. Arkwright, a lady who had visited Mrs. Perley some years before, and with whom she had then become acquainted. Joining her, Mrs. Cliff found Mrs. Arkwright able to give her a great deal of information in regard to the members of the Synod, and as the two sat and talked together in whispers, a desire arose in the mind of Mrs. Cliff that she and her wealth might in some way join in the work in which all these people were engaged. As her mind rested upon this subject, there came into it a plan which pleased her. Here were all these delegates, many of them looking tired and pale, as if they had been hard-worked during the winter, and here was she, the mistress of the Summer Shelter, about to take a trip to warm and sunny regions with an almost empty vessel.

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Mrs. Cliff, accompanied by Mrs. Arkwright, made her way to the front, where many of the members were standing together, and was introduced by her friend to several clergymen with whom Mrs. Arkwright was acquainted. As soon as possible Mrs. Cliff referred to the subject which was upon her mind, and informed the gentlemen with whom she had just been made acquainted, that if they thought well of it she would like to invite a party of such of the delegates who would care for such an excursion at this season, to accompany her on a short trip to the West Indies. Her vessel would easily accommodate twelve or fifteen of the gentlemen, and she would prefer to offer her invitation first to the clerical members of the Synod.

The reverend gentlemen to whom this offer was made were a little surprised by it, but they could not help considering it was a most generous and attractive proposition, and one of them undertook to convey the invitation to some of his brethren of the Synod.



Although the Synod had adjourned, many of the delegates remained for a considerable time, during which Mrs. Cliff's invitation was discussed with lively appreciation, some of the speakers informing her that if they could make the arrangements necessary for their pulpits and their families during a short absence, they would be delighted to accept her invitation. The Synod would finally adjourn on the next Tuesday, and she was promised that before that time she would be informed of the exact number of guests she might expect.

The next morning when Mr. Burke appeared to accompany the ladies to the yacht, he found Willy Croup alone in their parlor.

"Do you know what's happened?" cried Willy, springing towards him as he entered. "Of course you don't, for Mrs. Cliff is going to give the first country week on the Summer Shelter to a Synod!"

"To a what?" cried Burke.

"A Synod," explained Willy. "It's a congregation, I mean a meeting, mostly of ministers, come together to settle church matters. She invited the whole lot of them, but of course they all can't come,—for there are more than a hundred of them,—but there will be about a dozen who can sail with us next Wednesday!"

Mr. Burke's jaw dropped. "A dozen ministers!" he exclaimed. "Sail with us! By George! Miss Croup, will you excuse me if I sit down?"

"You know," said Willy, "that the Summer Shelter was bought for this sort of thing! That is, to do good to people who can't get that sort of good in other ways! And if Mrs. Cliff takes out poor children from the slums, and hard-working shopgirls, and seamstresses, why shouldn't she take hard-working ministers and give them some fresh air and pleasure?"

"A dozen ministers!" groaned Mr. Burke. "I tell you, Miss Croup, I can't take them in!"

"Oh, there'll be room enough!" said Willy, mistaking his meaning, "for Mrs. Cliff says that each of those little rooms will easily hold two!"

"Oh, it isn't that!" said Burke, his eyes fixed steadfastly upon a chair near him as if it had been something to look at. "But twelve ministers coming down on me so sudden, rather takes me aback, Miss Croup!"

"I don't wonder," said Willy, "for I don't believe that a Synod ever went out yachting before in a bunch!"

Mr. Burke rose and looked out of the window. "Miss Croup," said he, "do you remember what I said about mixin' fun and charity in these cruises? Well, I guess we'll have to take our charity straight this time!"

But when Mrs. Cliff had come in and had talked with animation and enthusiasm in regard to her plan, the effects of the shock which Mr. Burke had received began to wear off.

"All right, madam!" said he. "You're owner, and I'm Captain, and I'll stand by you! And if you take it into your head to ship a dozen popes on the Summer Shelter, I'll take them where you want them to go to, and I'll bring them back safe. I suppose we'll have all sorts of customers on the yacht this season, and if we've got to get used to queer passengers, a Synod will do very well to begin with! If you'll find out who's goin' and will write to them to be on hand Tuesday night, I'll see that they're taken care of!"

Mrs. Cliff's whole heart was now in the projected cruise of the Summer Shelter. When she had thought of it with only Willy and herself as passengers, she could not help considering it was a great extravagance. Now she was going to begin her series of sea-trips in a fashion far superior and more dignified than anything yet thought of. To be able to give such an invitation to a Synod was something of which she might well be proud, and she was proud.



CHAPTER XXI

A TELEGRAM FROM CAPTAIN HORN

It was early Tuesday morning, and Mrs. Cliff and Willy having just finished their breakfast, were busily engaged in packing the two trunks they proposed taking with them, and the elder lady was stating that although she was perfectly willing to dress in the blue flannel suit which had been ordered, she was not willing to wear a white cap, although Willy urged that this was the proper thing, as they had been told by the people where they had bought their yachting suits; and Mrs. Cliff was still insisting that, although it would do very well for Willy to wear a white cap, she would wear a hood,—the same kind of a hood which she had worn on all her other voyages, which was more like a bonnet and more suitable to her on that account than any other kind of head covering, when Mr. Burke burst—actually burst—without knocking, into the room. His silk hat was on the back of his head, and he wore no overcoat.

"Mrs. Cliff," he exclaimed, "I've just seen Shirley! You remember Shirley?"

"Indeed, I do," said Mrs. Cliff. "I remember him very well, and I always thought him to be a remarkably nice man! But where did you see him, and what in the world did he tell you to throw you into such a flurry?"

"He said a lot to me!" replied Burke. "And I'll try to make as straight a tale of it as I can! You see, about a week ago Shirley got a telegraphic message from Captain Horn—"

"Captain Horn!" exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. "Where is he, and what did he say?"

"He's in Mexico," said Burke; "and the telegram was as long as a letter—that's one advantage in not being obliged to think of what things cost,—and he told Shirley a lot—"

"How did they say they were?" asked Mrs. Cliff, eagerly. "Or did he say anything about Mrs. Horn? Are they well?"

"Oh, I expect they're all right," said Burke; "but I don't think he treated that subject. It was all about that gold, and the part of it that was to go to Peru!

"When the business of dividing up the treasure was settled in London in the way we know all about, word was sent to the Peruvian government to tell them what had happened, and to see what they said about it. And when they heard the news, they were a good deal more than satisfied,—as they ought to have been, I'm sure,—and they made no bones about the share we took. All they wanted was to have their part sent to them just as soon as could be, and I don't wonder at it; for all those South American countries are as poor as beggars, and if any one of them got a sum of money like that, it could buy up all the others, if it felt like spending the money in that way!

"Those Peruvians were in such a hurry to get the treasure that they wouldn't agree to have the gold coined into money, or to be sent a part at a time, or to take drafts for it; but they wanted it just as it was as soon as they could get it, and, as it was their own, nobody could hinder them from doing what they pleased with it. Shirley and I have made up our minds that most likely the present government thought that they wouldn't be in office when the money arrived if they didn't have it on hand in pretty short order; and, of course, if they got their fingers on that treasure, they could stay in power as long as they pleased.

"It is hard to believe that any government could be such fools,—for they ordered it all shipped on an ordinary merchant vessel, an English steamer, the Dunkery Beacon, which was pretty nigh ready to sail for Lima. Now, any other government in this world would have sent a man-of-war for that gold, or some sort of an armed vessel to convoy it, but that wasn't the way with the Peruvians! They wanted their money, and they wanted it by the first steamer which could be got ready to sail. They weren't going to wait until they got one of their cruisers over to England,—not they!

"The quickest way, of course, would have been to ship it to Aspinwall, and then take it by rail to Panama, and from there ship it to Lima, but I suppose they were afraid to do that. If that sort of freight had been carried overland, they couldn't have hindered people from finding out what it was, and pretty nearly everybody in Central America would have turned train-robber. Anyway, the agents over there got the Dunkery Beacon to sail a little before her regular time.

"Now here comes the point! They actually shipped a hundred and sixty million dollars' worth of pure gold on a merchant steamer that was going on a regular voyage, and would actually touch at Jamaica and Rio Janeiro on account of her other freight, instead of buying her outright, or sending her on the straightest cruise she could make for Lima! Just think of that! More than that, this business was so talked about by the Peruvian agents, while they were trying to get the earliest steamer possible for it, that it was heard of in a good many more ports than one!

"Well, this steamer with all the gold on board sailed just as soon as it could; and the very next day our London bankers got a telegram from Paris from the head of a detective bureau there to tell them that no less than three vessels were fitting out in the biggest kind of hurry to go after that slow merchant steamer with the millions on board!"

Mrs. Cliff and Willy uttered a simultaneous cry of horror. "Do you mean they're pirates, and are going to steal the gold?" cried Mrs. Cliff.

"Of course they are!" continued Burke. "And I don't wonder at it! Why, I don't believe such a cargo of gold ever left a port since the beginning of the world! For such a thing as that is enough to tempt anybody with the smallest streak of rascal blood in him and who could get hold of a ship!

"Well, these three vessels were fitting out hard as they could,—two in France, at Toulon and Marseilles, and one in Genoa; and although the detectives were almost positive what their business was, they were not sure that they could get proof enough to stop them. If the Dunkery Beacon had been going on a straight voyage, even to Rio Janeiro, she might have got away from them, but, you see, she was goin' to touch at Jamaica!

"And now, now,—this very minute,—that slow old steamer and those three pirates are on the Atlantic Ocean together! Why, it makes your blood creep to think of it!"

"Indeed it does! It's awful!" cried Mrs. Cliff. "And what are the London people going to do?"

"They're not going to do anything so far as I know!" said Burke. "If they could get through with the red-tape business necessary to send any sort of a cruiser or war-vessel after the Dunkery Beacon to protect her,—and I'm not sure that they could do it at all,—it would be a precious long time before such a vessel would leave the English Channel! But I don't think that they'll try anything of the sort; all I know is, that the London people sent a cable message to Captain Horn. I suppose that they thought he ought to know what was likely to happen, considerin' that he was the head man in the whole business!"

"And what did the Captain do?" cried Mrs. Cliff. "What could he do?"

"I don't know," answered Burke. "I expect he did everything that could be done in the way of sending messages; and among other things, he sent that telegram, about a thousand words more or less, to Shirley. He might have telegraphed to me, perhaps, but he didn't know my address, as I was wandering around. But Shirley, you know, is a fixture in his shipyard;—and so he sent it to him!"

"I haven't a doubt," said Mrs. Cliff, "that he would have telegraphed to you if he had known where you were!"

"I hope so," said Burke. "And when he had told Shirley all that had happened, he asked him to pull up stakes, and sail by the first steamer he could catch for Jamaica. There was a chance that he might get there before the Dunkery Beacon arrived, or while she was in port, and then he could tell everything to make her captain understand that he needn't be afraid to lose anything on account of his ship stopping in Kingston harbor until arrangements could be made for his carrying his gold in safety to Lima. Captain Horn didn't think that the pirates would try to do anything before the Dunkery Beacon left Kingston. They would just follow her until she got into the South Atlantic, and then board her, most likely!

"Captain Horn said that he was going to Jamaica too, but as he didn't know how soon he would be able to sail from Vera Cruz, he wanted Shirley to go ahead without losing a minute. And then Shirley he telegraphed to me up at Plainton,—thinking I was there and that I ought to know all about it, and the women at my house took so long forwarding it that I did not get it until yesterday evening, and then I rushed around to where Shirley was staying, and got there just in time to catch him, for the next steamer to Jamaica sailed early this morning. But he had plenty of time to tell me everything.

"The minute he got the Captain's telegram, he just dropped everything and started for New York. And I can tell you, Mrs. Cliff, I'd have done the same, for I don't know what I wouldn't do to get the chance to see Captain Horn again!"

"And you wanted to go with Mr. Shirley?" said Mrs. Cliff, with an eager light in her eyes.

"Indeed I did!" said Burke. "But, of course, I wouldn't think of such a thing as going off and leaving you here with that yacht on your hands, and no knowing what you would do with the people on board, and everything else! So I saw Shirley off about seven o'clock this morning, and then I came to report to you."

"That was too much to expect, Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Cliff, "but it was just like you, and I shall never forget it! But, now tell me one thing,—is Mrs. Horn going to Jamaica with the Captain?"

"I don't know," said Burke, "but, of course, she must be—he wouldn't leave her alone in Mexico!"

"Of course she is!" cried Mrs. Cliff. "And Mr. Shirley will see them! And oh, Mr. Burke, why can't we see them? Of all things in the world I want to see Edna, and the Captain too! And why can't we go straight to Jamaica in the Summer Shelter instead of going anywhere else? We may get there before they all leave; don't you think we could do that?"

The eyes of Captain Burke fairly blazed. "Do it!" he cried, springing to his feet. "I believe we can do it; at any rate we can try! The same to you, madam, I would do anything in the world to see Captain Horn, and nobody knows when we will have the chance! Well, madam, it's all the plainest kind of sailing; we can get off at daylight to-morrow morning, and if that yacht sails as they told me she sails, I believe we may overhaul Shirley, and, perhaps, we will get to Kingston before any of them! And now I've got to bounce around, for there's a good deal to be done before night-fall!"

"But what about the Synod?" asked Willy Croup.

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Burke, stopping suddenly on his way to the door. "I forgot the Synod."

Mrs. Cliff hesitated for a moment. "I don't think it need make any difference! It would be a great shame to disappoint all those good men; why couldn't we take them along all the same? Their weight wouldn't make the yacht go any slower, would it, Mr. Burke?"

"Not a bit of it!" said he. "But they may not want to go so far. Besides, if we find the Captain at Kingston, we mayn't feel like going back in a hurry. I'll tell you what we could do, Mrs. Cliff! We wouldn't lose any time worth speaking of if we touched at Nassau,—that's in the Bahamas, and a jolly place to go to. Then we might discharge our cargo of ministers, and if you paid their board until the next steamer sailed for New York, and their passage home, I should think they would be just as well satisfied as if they came back with us!"

Mrs. Cliff reflected. "That's true!" said she, presently. "I can explain the case to them, and I don't see why they should not be satisfied. And as for me, nobody could be more willing than I am to give pleasure to these ministers, but I don't believe that I could give up seeing Edna and Captain Horn for the sake of any members of any Synod!"

"All right, madam!" cried the impatient Burke. "You settle the matter with the parsons, and I haven't a doubt you can make it all right; and I'll be off! Everything has got to be on board to-night. I'll come after you early this evening." With this he departed.

When Mr. Burke had gone, Mrs. Cliff, very much excited by what she had heard and by the thought of what she was going to do, told Willy that she could go on with the packing while she herself went over to the church in Brooklyn and explained matters to the members of the Synod who intended to go with her, and give them a chance to decide whether or not the plan proposed by Mr. Burke would suit them.

She carried out this intention and drove to Brooklyn in a carriage, but, having been delayed by many things which Willy wanted to know about the packing, and having forgotten in what street the church was situated, she lost a good deal of time; and when she reached her destination she found that the Synod had adjourned sine die.