"What _are_ you good for, then?" he inquired, sternly.

"I don't know, sir; I can play on the harp," faltered Helen.

"Play the devil! You are a pretty, curly wax doll--good for nothing, and
cumbering the very earth that you live on."

Helen said nothing, but tears rolled over her cheeks.

"But I will have no idlers about me. You shall learn to be useful and
industrious. D'ye understand?"

"I will try, sir."

"Very well. And now, miss, what were _you_ doing parading about with old
Copeland down town?" he said, turning suddenly to May; "a man I detest
with all my soul."

"I do not know any individual of that name, sir. I missed my way this
morning, and inquired of an old gentleman who was passing the address of
a person I had business with. Then he offered to show me, as he was
going past the place," said May, lifting her clear, truthful eyes, to his
face.

"And _what_ business, pray, led you to a part of the city so little
frequented by the respectable of your sex?"

"If you will excuse me, sir, I would prefer not telling you," she said,
gently.