"I don't know," said Kate, suddenly relapsing into gloomy cynicism.

"Possibly to put his five daughters to school; perhaps to finish his young wife, and warn her against us." "He didn't look old, and he didn't seem like a married man," rejoined Addy thoughtfully.
"That was his art, you poor creature!" returned Kate scornfully.

"You can never tell anything of these men, they are so deceitful.

Besides, it's just my fate!" "Why, Kate," began Carry, in serious concern.
"Hush! Miss Walker is saying something," said Kate, laughing.
"The young ladies will please give attention," said a slow, perfunctory voice.

"Miss Carry Tretherick is wanted in the parlor." Meantime Mr.Jack Prince, the name given on the card, and various letters and credentials submitted to the Rev.Mr.Crammer, paced the somewhat severe apartment known publicly as the "reception parlor" and privately to the pupils as "purgatory." His keen eyes had taken in the various rigid details, from the flat steam "radiator," like an enormous japanned soda cracker, that heated one end of the room to the monumental bust of Dr.Crammer that hopelessly chilled the other; from the Lord's Prayer, executed by a former writing master in such gratuitous variety of elegant calligraphic trifling as to abate considerably the serious value of the composition, to three views of Genoa from the Institute, which nobody ever recognized, taken on the spot by the drawing teacher; from two illuminated texts of Scripture in an English letter, so gratuitously and hideously remote as to chill all human interest, to a large photograph of the senior class, in which the prettiest girls were Ethiopian in complexion, and sat, apparently, on each other's heads and shoulders.