than being in the convent all day. And I thought I could stand HIM
if you were here."

Milly gratefully accepted this doubtful proof of affection by
squeezing her companion's arm. "And you didn't get any
information, dear?"

"Of course not! The idiot knows only the old tradition of his
office--that I was a mysterious Trust left in Mayor Hammersley's
hands. He actually informed me that 'Buena' meant 'Good'; that it
was likely the name of the captain of some whaler, that put into
San Francisco in the early days, whose child I was, and that, if I
chose to call myself 'Miss Good,' he would allow it, and get a bill
passed in the Legislature to legalize it. Think of it, my dear!
'Miss Good,' like one of Mrs. Barbauld's stories, or a moral
governess in the 'Primary Reader.'"

"'Miss Good,'" repeated Milly, innocently. "Yes, you might put an
e at the end--G-double-o-d-e. There are Goodes in Philadelphia.
And then you won't have to sacrifice that sweet pretty 'Yerba,'
that's so stylish and musical, for you'd still be 'Yerba Good.'
But," she added, as Yerba made an impatient gesture, "why do you
worry yourself about THAT? You wouldn't keep your own name long,
whatever it was. An heiress like you, dear,--lovely and
accomplished,--would have the best names as well as the best men in
America to choose from."

"Now please don't repeat that idiot's words. That's what HE says;
that's what they ALL say!" returned Yerba, pettishly. "One would
really think it was necessary for me to get married to become