"Go to work at once. Keep me informed of your movements. Be discreet, and report your plans to me here to-morrow evening. Your reward for the faithful performance of the work shall be the cashiership."
The two separated, and as Sargent passed out he smiled, and said to himself:
"I will crush the fellow, and glory in his downfall. I wonder, though, if some day the Senator won't put somebody up to crushing me in the same way?"
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
GEORGE AND FANNIE ALDEN.
George Alden resided in a neat little cottage on a side street. His house was presided over by his sister Fannie, his senior by ten years. The dwelling, in no way pretentious, was simple in all its appointments, and the very perfection of neatness. The little parlor was not elegant, but all about were to be seen evidences of the cultivated taste of its occupants.
The tables were covered with books of poems from both early and later authors, while many classical works could be seen upon the shelves of a pretty but quaint mahogany bookcase that rose from floor to ceiling on one side of the apartment. The handsomest piece of furniture in the house was a large square piano. On entering we behold a dark-haired lady sitting before the instrument, while her fingers glide over the ivory keys.
The performer is lost in her delightful pastime, her face glowing with enthusiasm, and, the last strain finished, she rises from the instrument, and we behold the sister of George Alden.