She had finished her meal, and, asking to be excused, was leaving the room, when an exclamation from John, who was glancing over the paper, stayed her steps.
“Lea! what Lea is it, I wonder?—‘was arrested yesterday on a criminal charge, and has committed suicide. His affairs are found to be hopelessly involved.’”
“Doesn’t it give his Christian name?” asked Mrs. Sharp, with interest.
“Yes: Abner.”
“Just so; there’s a good customer lost!” she exclaimed in a tone of vexation.
“And they were so rich!” remarked her sister; “what turns of the wheel of fortune! What is it Shakespeare says?”
Floy hurried away to the privacy of Hetty’s parlor, sighing softly to herself, “Poor Miss Carrie! Ah, there are heavier trials than mine!”
Half an hour later Hetty looked in. “May I see what Santa Claus has sent you?”
“Yes, indeed. A dozen beautifully fine handkerchiefs, with Madame Le Conte’s card—”
“Just like her! she’s the soul of generosity so far as money is concerned.”