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Updated: June 17, 2025
Bonehead, the old lawyer who had cast Winnifred upon the world. "Miss Clair," said the Lawyer, advancing and taking the girl's hand for a moment in a kindly clasp, "the time has come for me to explain all. You are not, you never were, the penniless girl that you suppose. Under the terms of your father's will, I was called upon to act a part and to throw you upon the world.
"Pray give me your best attention and I will endeavour to explain to you how I lost it." "Oh, sir," cried Winnifred, "I am only a poor girl unskilled in the ways of the world, and knowing nothing but music and French; I fear that the details of business are beyond my grasp. But if it is lost, I gather that it is gone." "It is," said Mr. Bonehead.
With renewed strength she sallied forth on the street to resume her vain search for employment. For two weeks now Winnifred Clair had sought employment even of the humblest character. At various dress-making establishments she had offered, to no purpose, the services of her needle. They had looked at it and refused it. In vain she had offered to various editors and publishers the use of her pen.
Aunt Winnifred opened and read the letter and laid it down with a brief sigh. "This is all she says about the chest. 'If it were not for one thing that is in it, I would ask you to open the chest and burn all its contents. But I cannot bear that anyone but myself should see or touch that one thing. So please leave the chest as it is, dear Aunt.
DeLisle was loveless on her part and proved very unhappy. But he had been dead many years, and Aunt Winnifred never spoke of him. "I have made up my mind what to do," said Grandmother decidedly. "I will write to Eliza and ask her if I may open the chest to see if the moths have got into it. If she refuses, well and good. I have no doubt that she will refuse.
Presently Aunt Winnifred came back through the twilight shadows. "Let us put all these things back in their grave, Amy," she said. "They are of no use to anyone now. The linen might be bleached and used, I dare say but it would seem like a sacrilege. It was Mother's wedding present to Eliza. And the pearls would you care to have them, Amy?" "Oh, no, no," I said with a little shiver.
Winnifred Blake, the youngest daughter of a wealthy, influential gentleman, was a bright, happy girl of about fourteen years, with a kind, generous heart, and warm, impulsive nature.
"I have them here," said the clerk, and he laid upon the table a bundle of faded blue papers, and withdrew. "Miss Winnifred," resumed the Old Lawyer, "I will now proceed to give you an account of the disposition that has been made of your property. This first document refers to the sum of two thousand pounds left to you by your great uncle. It is lost." Winnifred bowed.
Little versed in the world as Winnifred was, she knew but too well the horror, the iniquity, the depth of degradation implied in the word. "Yes," continued the agent, "I have a letter here asking me to recommend a young lady of suitable refinement to play the part of Eliza in Uncle Tom's Cabin. Will you accept?" "Sir," said Winnifred proudly, "answer me first this question fairly.
More than this, I have invested your property since your father's death so wisely that even after paying the income tax and the property tax, the inheritance tax, the dog tax and the tax on amusements, you will still have one half of one per cent to spend." Winnifred clasped her hands.
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