"There, don't cry!" she said, patting her shoulder. "You never can tell about these things. John may not care a button for this girl, or have the least intention of marrying her. You 're always seeing the dark side of things."
But her form of consolation was not well chosen. Letitia threw off the hand and raised her disfigured face.
"John may be selfish and mean and all that, and I 've no doubt he is; but he 's not mean enough, he 's not contemptible enough, to do what you think he 's doing. I 'll not believe that of him. I 'd despise him if I thought so; I 'd hate him!"
Her tears burst forth afresh, and she hid her face in her hands.
Mrs. Gault was nonplussed. She looked at her sister's shaken shoulders and bowed head with an uncomprehending but pitying eye. Then, as Letitia's sobs diminished, she said gloomily:
"How much jam did you buy?"
"Three dozen glasses," came the muffled answer.
"Good gracious!"—raising her eyes toward the ceiling in an access of horror. "What did you get so much for? Two or three would have done. We 'll not get through that by Christmas." There was no answer made to
