It is only in the South that one can find women—ladies, and who dress like ladies, and who hardly have ten dollars in cash the year round. The mystery of the maintenance of their existence is not solved outside the walls of their own homes. Proud, refined and shy, they divulge nothing. Who is a boarder that he should think to comprehend the pathetic ingenuity of their eventless lives?
"Are you connected with the Bigelows of Charleston?" asked Mrs. McCorkle, softly.
"I think we must be another branch," replied Ellesworth, boldly.
"I will—I would pay you," added Ellesworth, blushing, "just what they would charge me at the Sunshine Hotel, if that would be satisfactory."
"How much is that, Mr. Bigelow?" inquired Mrs. McCorkle, reddening too.
"Twenty-five dollars a week."
"That is too much. We should think that enough for a month," said the girl, turning her wonderful face upon her visitor.
"I could not think of giving less," he insisted. Still he did not look at her.
"Perhaps," admitted Mrs. McCorkle with a sigh, "we might take you, sir, seeing that you are one of the Bigelow family—on trial."
"I will come," returned Ellesworth, quickly, looking straight at Georgiella, "I will come next Monday—on trial.