"She has no mother either; she died when Rachel was a baby. In fact, she has no relations at all except an uncle, who has been abroad for ten years, and will not be at home until school closes next spring."
"Well, I do pity the poor thing!" said Mr. Berkley, who, although death had never robbed him of his own dear ones, felt the deepest sympathy for all those who had been so stricken. "I think it is one of the saddest cases I ever knew. I suppose Flo—bless her heart!—could sympathize with her even more than the rest of you, having lost her mother too."
"She and Rachel are great friends," replied Marion, wishing the subject would ever be changed.
"Is she well provided for?" asked Mr. Berkley.
"She is immensely wealthy," replied Marion; "will have two or three millions in her own right, when she is twenty-one."
"Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Berkley; "pretty well provided for, I should think. Well, I'm glad of it; she has had trouble enough already, without having to worry about money matters. Marion, have another chop?"
"No, I thank you, papa, I've had quite enough," replied Marion, rousing herself, and speaking with her usual energy, the absence of which had not escaped her mother's ear. "How soon will Fred be home? I'm crazy to see him."
"In about an hour, I expect," replied Mrs. Berkley; "he is quite as anxious to see you as you are to see him."
"I tell you what, Mab," said Mr. Berkley, "Fred is a pretty important member of society since he got into college; you ought to hear him talk about 'the men of our class;' it makes me feel old."
"Oh! he'll get over that," laughed Marion. "I suppose he feels particularly grand, because he's younger than most of his class."