“How awful, pa,” said Sally, who alone of all the family had felt kindly toward Harry, “and he was so good-looking, too!”
“He wasn’t a bit better-looking than Joel,” said her mother sharply.
“Oh, ma!”
“It’s true. I never could see any good looks in him, and it doesn’t become you, miss, to go against your own brother. How did you find it out, Mr. Fox?”
“I came across an old copy of the New York Herald, giving an account of the disaster, and mentioning Harry Vane as one of the passengers. Of course it’s a mistake, for he must have been one of the common sailors.”
“Well, I reckon there’s no call for us to put on mourning,” said Mrs. Fox.
“I don’t know about that. It might look better.”
“What do we care about Harry Vane?”
“My dear, he left property,” said Mr. Fox significantly. “There’s three hundred dollars in the hands of that man in Ferguson, besides the money he got for saving the train, as much as two hundred dollars. As we are his only relatives, that money ought to come to us by rights.”
“That’s so, husband. On the whole, I’ll put a black ribbon on my bonnet.”