The utter pertness of her ignorant youth knew no respect for even the rich Miss Cynthia Lennox.

"Here's your parcel, lady," she said, in her rough young voice, its shrillness modified by hoarseness from too much shouting for cash boys during this busy season, and she thrust, with her absent eyes upon a gentleman coming towards her, a parcel into Cynthia's hands.

Somehow the touch of that parcel seemed to bring Cynthia to her senses.

It was a kodak which she had been purchasing for the little boy who had lived with her, and whom it had almost broken her heart to lose.

She remembered what her friend Lyman Risley had said, that it might make trouble for others besides herself.