Some said he hoarded gold somewhere about the old house, but nobody knew this for a certainty.  In spite of his abundant means, he talked much of poverty, and kept the household on the narrowest footing of economy.  One Irishwoman, with a little aid from her husband now and then, did all their work; and the only company they saw was Miss Cynthia Badlam, who, as a relative, claimed a home with them whenever she was so disposed.

The “little Indian,” as Malachi called her, was an awkward accession to the family.  Silence Withers knew no more about children and their ways and wants than if she had been a female ostrich.  Thus it was that she found it necessary to send for a woman well known in the place as the first friend whose acquaintance many of the little people of the town had made in this vale of tears.

Thirty years of practice had taught Nurse Byloe the art of handling the young of her species with the soft firmness which one may notice in cats with their kittens,—­more grandly in a tawny lioness mouthing her cubs.  Myrtle did not know she was held; she only felt she was lifted, and borne up, as a cherub may feel upon a white-woolly cloud, and smiled accordingly at the nurse, as if quite at home in her arms.

“As fine a child as ever breathed the breath of life.  But where did them black eyes come from?  Born in Injy,—­that ’s it, ain’t it?  No, it’s her poor mother’s eyes to be sure.  Does n’t it seem as if there was a kind of Injin look to ’em?  She’ll be a lively one to manage, if I know anything about childun.  See her clinchin’ them little fists!”

This was when Miss Silence came near her and brought her rather severe countenance close to the child for inspection of its features.  The ungracious aspect of the woman and the defiant attitude of the child prefigured in one brief instant the history of many long coming years.

It was not a great while before the two parties in that wearing conflict of alien lives, which is often called education, began to measure their strength against each other.  The child was bright, observing, of restless activity, inquisitively curious, very hard to frighten, and with a will which seemed made for mastery, not submission.

The stern spinster to whose care this vigorous life was committed was disposed to discharge her duty to the girl faithfully and conscientiously; but there were two points in her character and belief which had a most important bearing on the manner in which she carried out her laudable intentions.  First, she was one of that class of human beings whose one single engrossing thought is their own welfare,—­in the next world, it is true, but still their own personal welfare.  The Roman Church recognizes this class, and provides every form of specific to meet their spiritual condition.  But in so far as Protestantism has thrown out works as a means of insuring future safety, these unfortunates are as badly off as nervous