The bright color had not yet left her cheek.

The old man gazed at her angrily for a moment, then stopped short, planted his cane on the ground, and said in a loud tone, all the while peering into her face as if he would read her very thoughts,-- "Don't you know that Steve White isn't good for any thin'?
Poor stock, poor stock! Father before him poor stock, too.

Don't you go to lettin' him handle your money, child.

Mind now! I'll be a good friend to you, if you'll do 's I say; but, if Steve White gets hold on you, I'll have nothin' to do with you.

Mind that, eh?
eh ?" Mercy had a swift sense of angry resentment at these words; but she repelled it, as she would have resisted the impulse to be angry with a little child.
"Mr.Wheeler," she said with a gentle dignity of tone, which was not thrown away on the old man, "I do not know why you should speak so to me about Mr.White.He is almost an entire stranger to me as yet.