"Oh! Aunt Susan, you don't understand and I am afraid to tell you, but I am such a wicked girl—such a hypocrite, and so unworthy of your relationship and love. I am a cheater and a waster. My life is all lies and sham. It always has been lies and sham. I wish to tell you everything so that you may see me as I am.

"I came here to get into your good graces—to win your love that thereby I might gain your fortune and marry into one of our old families—a man of great social prominence—and I've been trying to make you like me and make myself necessary to you. I've tried to give you the impression that I was clever so that in case you wished to make me your heiress you would not hesitate for fear that I might be extravagant and a spendthrift. I can't tell you how bad I am. I've been ashamed of being seen with you on account of the queer way you dressed. I'm not fit to put my head in your lap—no, I'm not fit to stay under your roof any longer," and Ethel's sobs were pitiful to hear. She became hysterical. Then Aunt Susan took her in her arms.

"Child," she began, "don't cry. You have told me nothing new. I understood from the first why you came home with me. You have many noble traits of character. Your grandmother and I thought that under different influences you might become a splendid woman. It was she who suggested my inviting you. You are a good girl, Ethel, and above all you have a kind and tender heart. You are a Carpenter in spite of your mother, and anyone bearing my father's name can not go far from right. You have shown that this morning. Now, my dear, in this world environments have much to do with one's character, and you have never had a chance, my poor little girl," and Aunt Susan kissed and soothed her as a mother might have done. "Now forget it all, my dear child, just as I shall forget. Let us begin anew from this morning."

"But, Aunt Susan," sobbed the girl, "I feel so unworthy, and you are so sweet to forgive me. I should think you'd hate me and want me to leave your house. But, believe me, I do love you—I love you as dearly as I love Grandmamma and Papa. Excepting in books I never knew that any one woman could be so good and self-sacrificing as you are. Oh, will you believe that I don't want your money, and that I only care for your respect and forgiveness, and your love, if you can give it?"

"Yes, my dear, I believe every word that you say. I believe in you from now on," and Ethel threw her arms around Aunt Susan's neck and wept for joy.