THE GAY BARTENDER

eighty Seven

radually shriveled up and ran down. The rumor, put abouty a pert housemaid, that he had actually been dead for twoays before anyone noticed, is acomplete exaggeration. Imust admit, however, that he might have passed away at anypoint during the five hours I spent with him in his study onhat particular afternoon. He was leaning back in his bigeather chair, meditating, as I assumed; and when, warnedby some premonition, I hurried to his side, his wide-openeyes held the same expression of mild inquiry with whichthey had always regarded me. It seemed to me quite a re-spectable and comfortable way in which to pass on.

It came as no surprise to anyone to discover that he hadleft his property to me, the aforesaid prop, and the only oneof his children who had not an income of its own. Mybrothers accepted this tolerantly, as they had accepted mydevoted service to Papa. They did not explode until theylearned that the property was not a paltry sum, but a fortuneof half a million pounds. They had made a common mistakein assuming that an absentminded scholar is necessarily afool. My father's disinclination to argue with Mr. Hodgkinsthe butcher was due, not to lack of ability, but to disinterest.He was very much interested in investments, “'change,” andthose other mysterious matters that produce wealth.He hadconducted his business affairs with the same reticence thatmarked his habits in general; and he died, to the surprise ofall, a wealthy man. .

When this fact became known, the explosion occurred.My eldest brother James went so far as to threaten legalproceedings, on the basis of unsound mind and undue influ-ence. This ill-considered burst of temper, which was charac-teristic of James, was easily stopped by Mr. Fletcher, Papa'sexcellentisolicitor. Other attempts ensued. I was visited bystreams of attentive nieces and nephews assuring me of theirdevotion-which had been demonstrated, over the pastyears, by their absence. Sisters-in-law invited me, in themost affectionate phrases,to share their homes. I waswarned in the strongest termas agaimsr fornehunte

The warnings were not unselfish; they were, however, un necessary.A middlc-aged spinster-for I was at that time hirty-two years of age, and I scorned to disguise the fact= who has never received a proposal of marriage must be simpleton if she fails to recognize the sudden acquisition of fortune as a factor in her new popularity. I was not a simple on. I had always known myself to be plain.

The transparent attempts of my kin, and of various unem-ployed gentlemen, to win my regard, aroused in me a grim amusement. I did not put them off; quite the contrary, I en-couraged them to visit, and laughed up my sleeve at their clumsy efforts. Then it occurred to me that I was enjoying hem too much. I was becomingsynical; and it was this haracter development that made me decide to leave En-land-not, as some malicious persons have intimated,a ear of being overborne. I had always wanted to travel. Now, decided, I would see all the places Father had studied-the lory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome; Bab-lon and hundred-gated Thebes.

Once I had made this decision, it did not take me long to repare for the journey. I made my arrangements with Mr. letcher, and received from him a proposal of marriage which I refused with the same good humor that had charac-erized the offer. At least he was honest.

“I thought it worth a try,” he remarked calmly.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained,"I-agreed.

Mr. Fletcher studied me thoughtfully for a moment.

“Miss Amelia, may I ask-in my professional capacity now-whether you have any inclinations toward matri-mony?”

“None. I disapprove of matrimony as a matter of princi-ple.” Mr. Fletcher's pepper-and-salt eyebrows lifted. added,“For myself,that is. I suppose it is well enough for some women; what eIse can the poor things do? But why should any independent,intelligent female choose to subjectherself to the whims and tyrannies of a husband? I assure

you, I have yet to meet a man as sensible as myself!”

“I can well believe that,” said Mr. Fletcher. He hesitated for a moment; I fancied I could see him struggle with the desire to make an unprofessional statement. He lost the struggle...

“Why do you wear such frightful clothes?” he burst out. “If it is to discourage suitors-”

“Really,Mr. Fletcher!” I exclaimed..

“I beg your pardon,” said the lawyer, wiping his brow. “I cannot think what came over me.”

“Nor can I. As for my clothes, they suit the life I lead. The current fashions are impractical for an active person. Skirts so tight one must toddle like an infant,bodices boned so firmly it is impossible to draw a deep breath....And bustles! Of all the idiotic contrivances foisted upon helpless womankind, the bustle is certainly the worst. I wear them, since it is impossible to have a gown made without them, but at least I can insist on sensible dark fabrics and a mini-mum of ornament. What a fool I should look in puffs and frills and crimson satin-or a gown trimmed with dead birds, like one I saw!”

“And yet,” said Mr. Fletcher, smiling, “I have always thought you would look rather well in puffs and frills and crimson satin.”

The opportunity to lecture had restored my good humor. I returned his smile, but I shook myhead.

“Give it up,Mr.Fletcher. You cannot flatter me; I know the catalogue of my faults too accúrately. I am too tall, I am too lean in some regions and too amply endowed in others. My nose is too large, my mouth is too wide, and the shape of my chin is positively masculine. Sallow complexions and jetty black hair are not in fashion this season; and I have been informed that eyes of so deep a gray, set under such forbidding black brows, strike terror into the beholder even when they are beaming with benevolence-which my eyes.