families with large weekly washings, bore out
this estimate of herself -- an estimate which
she never endeavored to conceal.

Nora had buried two husbands without being
unduly depressed by the fact. The first hus-
band had been a disappointment, and Nora
winked at Providence when an accident in a
tunnel carried him off -- that is to say, carried
the husband off. The second husband was
not so much of a disappointment as a sur-
prise. He developed ability of a literary
order, and wrote songs which sold and made
him a small fortune. Then he ran away with
another woman. The woman spent his fort-
une, drove him to dissipation, and when he
was dying he came back to Nora, who re-
ceived him cordially, attended him to the
end, and cheered his last hours by singing
his own songs to him. Then she raised a
headstone recounting his virtues, which were
quite numerous, and refraining from any
reference to those peculiarities which had
caused him to be such a surprise.

Only one actual chagrin had ever nibbled
at the sound heart of Nora Finnegan -- a
cruel chagrin, with long, white teeth, such
as rodents have! She had never held a child
to her breast, nor laughed in its eyes; never