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" "Wretch!" cried Jack, raising his hand in a menacing manner, "your triumph will be short-lived. "Iss, Massa. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. "These writer chaps are queer birds. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. " "He's coming!" cried Jack, stamping his foot, with vexation.

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