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Mr. Smith pounded a small nail home with an extra blow of his hammer.

"And they're all so kind and interested about the money, too," went on Miss Flora, gently rocking to and fro. "Bert Benson sells stocks and invests money for folks, you know, and Mis' Benson said he'd got some splendid-payin' ones, and he'd let me have some, and—"

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"Flo, you DIDN'T take any of that Benson gold-mine stock!" interrupted

Miss Maggie sharply.

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Mr. Smith's hammer stopped, suspended in mid-air.

"No; oh, no! I asked Mr. Chalmers and he said better not. So I didn't." Miss Maggie relaxed in her chair, and Mr. Smith's hammer fell with a gentle tap on the nail-head. "But I felt real bad about it—when Mis' Benson had been so kind as to offer it, you know. It looked sort of—of ungrateful, so."

"Ungrateful!" Miss Maggie's voice vibrated with indignant scorn.

"Flora, you won't—you WON'T invest your money without asking Mr.

Chalmers's advice first, will you?"

"But I tell you I didn't," retorted Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness, for her. "But it was good stock, and it pays splendidly. Jane took some. She took a lot."

"Jane!—but I thought Frank wouldn't let her."

"Oh, Frank said all right, if she wanted to, she might. I suspect he got tired of her teasing, and it did pay splendidly. Why, 'twill pay twenty-five per cent, probably, this year, Mis' Benson says. So Frank give in. You see, he felt he'd got to pacify Jane some way, I s'pose, she's so cut up about his selling out."