suggestive of all that is worth begging of Providence. Without another look he went dignifiedly upon his way, but the impression of her charming personality went with him. This was the Hon. George Sylvester Brander, junior Senator. 

 “Wasn’t that a fine-looking man who went up just now?” observed Jennie a few moments later. 

 “Yes, he was,” said her mother. 

 “He had a gold-headed cane.” 

 “You mustn’t stare at people when they pass,” cautioned her mother, wisely. “It isn’t nice.” 

 “I didn’t stare at him,” returned Jennie, innocently. “He bowed to me.” 

 “Well, don’t you pay any attention to anybody,” said her mother. “They may not like it.” 

 Jennie fell to her task in silence, but the glamor of the great world was having its effect upon her senses. She could not help giving ear to the sounds, the brightness, the buzz of conversation and laughter surrounding her. In one section of the parlor floor was the dining-room, and from the clink of dishes one could tell that supper was being prepared. In another was the parlor proper, and there some one came to play on the piano. That feeling of rest and relaxation which comes before the evening meal pervaded the place. It touched the heart of the innocent working-girl with hope, for hers were the years, and poverty could not as yet fill her young mind with cares. She rubbed diligently always, and sometimes forgot the troubled mother at her side, whose kindly eyes were becoming invested with crows’ feet, and whose lips half repeated the hundred cares of the day. She could only think that all of this was very fascinating, and wish that a portion of it might come to her. 

 At half-past five the housekeeper, remembering them, came and told them that they might go. The fully finished stairway was relinquished by both with a sigh of relief, and, after putting their implements away, they hastened homeward, the mother, at least, pleased to think that at last she had something to do. 

 As they passed several fine houses Jennie was again touched by that half-defined emotion which the unwonted novelty of the hotel life had engendered in her consciousness. 

 “Isn’t it fine to be rich?” she said. 

 “Yes,” answered her mother, who was thinking of the suffering Veronica. 

 “Did you 

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