"Good-bye," said Miss Maggie. "Now, go home and go to bed, and don't worry any more or you'll have one of your headaches."

As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank into a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.

"I hope she won't meet Frank or Jane anywhere." She sighed profoundly.

"Why? What do you mean? Do you think they'd blame her—about this unfortunate affair of Fred's?"

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Miss Maggie sighed again.

"I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking of another matter. I just came from Frank's, and—"

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"Yes?" Something in her face sent a questioning frown to Mr. Smith's own countenance.

"Do you remember hearing Flora say that Jane had bought a lot of the

Benson gold-mine stock?"

"Well, Benson has failed; and they've just found out that that gold-mine stock is worth—about two cents on a dollar."

"Two cents! And how much—"

"About forty thousand dollars," said Miss Maggie wearily.