Rich Man, Poor Man

rning awoke to a good, old-fashioned white Christmas. At midnight the snow began to

for awakening. But presently a peal of chimes clanging a stave from a near-by church-steeple broke in on her, and with a start she sat upright. Dazed, drowsy-eyed

end of the street, murmuring like a sea, the muffled roar of the Avenue arose. Within the h

most in evidence. The curtains were made of it and so was the valance on Bab's little bed-that and the drapery on her dressing table. But here brocade thick and board-like formed the

sing table; a great tilting pier glass stood beside it, and there were ornaments of porcelain and chased crystal on the mantel; while at each side of the four-poster, on the carpet's yielding

was the strangeness of it all that for the moment weighed on her spirits. The big, dim room, too, so vast and solemn, sent a shadow of loneliness creeping into her heart; and just then, on the mantel over the fireplace, the clock ticking busily

and. Then would follow beefsteak, baked potatoes, coffee with real cream and, to finish, a great heaping platter of waffles of a luscious golden yellow and steaming hot. Where could food be foun

le. At the opposite end would be Mr. Mapleson, his eyes snapping with excitement and merriment, his shy, frosty little giggle sounding at every turn. For Christmas was a great da

all can't have a home-not our own maybe;

e have it!" he would finally exclaim. "Miss Maria Mangin, with Merry Christmas from Kris Kringle!" Whereat Mary Mangin, with a seismic convulsion shaking her from pediment to dome, would totter to the nearest sofa and, to the peril of that piece, crash down upon it, exclaiming the while in Mr. Mapleson's behal

!" Mrs. Jessup cried scandalized; and she snatched from the little man the pink silk hairpin case which he'd been delightedly accepting. One present, however, Mr. Mapleson always reserved to the last, carefully laying it aside until all the others had been opened. Then, his ey

Mr.

e and Me

m B

say, and he would violen

ied her head swiftly among the pillows of the big four-poster. Mr. Mapy this morning w

ered her. Mr. Mapy would understand. He always did. He would know she did not really forget him. It was only because everything had been so sudden, so amazing.

tap at the door, then a maid stole in. The servant, a tall, angular Englishwoman with

, my lady, and snowing. Mrs. Lloyd

. Ll

loyd are motoring out to

t yet seen. How kind of her to think so soon of her new

ounced, "a box of flowers was left for

owe

. Who could have sent her flowers, Christmas flowers? A moment later the maid handed her t

rlings!" sh

and hyacinths-these and lacelike sprays of maidenhair fern. Never before had she seen a box like this, much less had it sent

ou dar

ying in the box

ith a Merr

ve from her

id

d in a delicate, well-bred hand. She knew of David Lloyd. He was the cripple boy-the man rather-she had asked Varick

was to be like this! To think she not only had found her kin, but that they should prove so kind! S

days what was to be expected, she also had prepared for it. Many little luxuries she had laid in to make Bab comfortable; and as Mawson brought them out, one by one, Bab felt her heart beat swifter, then more swiftly still. If only Mr. Mapy could have been there! If only he and she could have joined hands once to dance

nd as she saw who had knocked she beamed pleasantly. The patient, it appeared, was much brighter. He had already as

and an embossed bronze wall-paper vied with each other in gloominess; while the sideboard, the table and the chairs, in the style of the early eighties, wore a corresponding air of stodgy, solid richness and melancholy. This effect, too, was heightened b

rs and tan spats at the moment attired Mr. Lloyd; but one had but to glance once at the pale, myopic, blasé gentleman to guess that presently he would retire to change, his man helping him, into clothes more suitable for motoring-a lounge suit of tweeds, say, or

id was not meant for her to hear also was manifest. For an insta

n his inconsequent, singsong voice. "

in the man. Evidently for some reason he had not as yet accepted her as Miss Elvira had, as his son, too, had accepted her-that is, if the message

remarked. Afterward she briefly held out a

small with curiously puckered lips. It was her voice, though, that most held Bab. In it was that note of repression, a studied in

e! It appeared, however, that the topic held but scant interest for the Lloyds, for Lloyd the least of all. A few passing references, to be sure, were made to Bab's dead father

out, touched a

had seated herself Lloyd returned to his place on the hearthrug. While Mrs. Lloyd in her dragg

s the matter? Why was their air so queer? Mrs. Lloyd, her manner on the surface blandly idle but her curiosity still evident, was questioning Bab

abruptly, "you know Varick, don'

ps hung suspended, and for a moment she gazed ov

s," she

glance at

a long time, too, ha

ring," answere

her well, too, don't

d behind them, she saw, more than a mere social interest. Nor was that all! While the man was plying her with his questions her aunt, she was conscious, was studying her with scrutinous attention. Phryne be

a cheerful voice. "Mer

d round, breathed

he was slight of figure, with crisp, reddish-brown hair, an animated face, and shrewd, kindly gray eyes, deep-set and expressive. Gentle, one saw he was, but in that gentleness was nothing weak, nothing effeminate. In David Lloyd-Peter Bee

propping himself on the crutches, he held out a welcoming hand. Of his heartiness she saw she need have no fear; and shyly responsive, she gave him her hand. The clasp of

en dream I had a cousin!" Then he gave her a sly,

ir and, teetering perilously for an instant on his crutche

and half rose from her chair;

imself to the chair. One might have thought from it that the affliction that had maimed him for lif

phere of gloomy dimness; and inspired by it his father and mother too awoke, joining in the talk. It was not for long though. Ag

at once exclaimed.

so she was sure her aunt made him a swift, subtle signal. It

at?" Then with a queer look he abruptly added:

David. His inter

father. "He's living ther

ked to her to satisfy their singular curiosity? Was Varick's presence at Mrs. Tilney's more than a mere coincidence? If it were, why were they concerned?

then, his to

Bab was? Why, what in the

ather, and again Bab marked in his tone that note of cov

" he said hesitantly. "It can't be

rs. Lloyd, and in turn her aunt signaled him anew. Now, however, it was David, not Bab, whom she indicated; and Bab's wonder gre

, "how came Varick to go to that boarding house? Who

st get away. His tone now was not to be misunderstood. It was very nearly sneering, and yet what motive he had behind his persistence Bab could not

ting, when she saw her

, prompted Bab anew, again she spoke, her voice now acute. "Barclay!"

what is it?

and voluminous mid-Victorian brocade, the doyenne of the Beeston family sailed toward them, burgeoning like a full-rigged ship. And it was a ship-of-war, too, one obse

wo go see your grandfather; he's asking for you. Hurry, now!" Then, the two in their wonder hesitating, she waved them to make

talk reached Bab. It was Miss Elvira

your tongue! The next time now it

umble. But why did that man need to be warned? What was it about Varick they were h