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He can't have laid up a cent, for he's slow, though he's a good workman. You can't do with less when you haven't any more than enough." "That's so," said Abby. Then she turned a tender, conciliating, indulgent gaze on the young man at her side. "If I were Floretta Vining," said she, "and if Ellen were, we would go without things, and never know it. We'd go to work; but Floretta, she's different.
"At least she thinks so," flashed over her, as Mrs. Warrington rose, and left the room, watchfully guided by Floretta to the next process in her course in beautification. Constance sank back luxuriously on the cushions of her chaise longue.
"Think not so poorly of me. You are my benefactress once more. Is it for me to slander you?" "Go! I will send you the means. I know myself; if you cross my path again, I shall kill you. Addio; my heart is broken." She touched her bell. "Floretta," said she, in a choked voice, "take him safe out of the house, through my chamber, and by the side postern."
Floretta was built on the scale of a fairy, with tiny, fine, waxen features, a little tossing mane of flaxen hair, eyes a most lovely and perfect blue, with no more depth in them than in the blue of china, and an expression of the sweetest and most innocent inanity and irresponsibility. Nobody ever expected anything of this little Floretta Vining. She was always a negative success.
But Floretta's heart was set upon "Wilfred," her favorite hero of romance being Wilfred of Ivanhoe. The story is that the parents being no nearer an agreement on the great question, Floretta made a proposal of compromise.
She picked up a little inking pad which lay on a mahogany secretary which Vera used as an office desk. "If you will be so kind, Stella, as to place your fingers flat on this pad-never mind about the ink; call Floretta; she will wipe them off afterwards-and then on this piece of paper, I won't bother you further."
I made him the other day a plum pudding of my very own, I wouldn't even let Aunt Floretta seed the raisins, and when it came on burnt, what do you think he said? Why, I asked him how he liked it, and he thought for a minute and replied, 'My dear, it's the very best burnt plum pudding I ever ate. Now wasn't that dear of him?"
"I'd thank you to place your fingers on this pad," said Constance quietly. "I'm making a collection of these things." "You are, are you?" "Yes," she cut short. "And if my collection isn't large enough I shall call up Mrs. Warrington and ask her to come over, too," she added significantly. Floretta entered again. "Please wipe the ink off Mr.
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