"Your sister!" repeated the girl, taken by surprise. "What has your sister got to do with me?"
"She gives you a home, and pays you wages, I reckon."
"Aint you a peddler, then?" demanded the girl, incredulously.
"I am Mrs. Oakley's brother, and you'd better invite me into the house, if you want to stay in it yourself."
"Excuse me, sir. I made a mistake. If you'll walk in I'll tell Mrs. Oakley you're here."
"That's the first sensible word you've spoken. I'll put my valise here in the entry."
"Well," thought the servant, "if that's Mrs. Oakley's brother, I don't think much of her family. I always thought she belonged to a poor set."
She went upstairs to the front chamber, where her mistress liked to sit, and said:--
"Your brother's downstairs. He says he would like to see you."
"My brother!" repeated her mistress, not looking overpleased.
The ill-dressed stranger was stretched out in a rocking-chair, in an attitude more comfortable than graceful. He was gazing about the room, and noting with much complacency the evidences of comfort and luxury which the handsome furniture exhibited. It was thus that Mrs. Oakley found him.
"How do you do, brother Ephraim?" she said, coldly, advancing, and just giving him the tips of her fingers.
"I'm pretty well," he answered. "So the old gentleman's dead, hey?"
"If you mean my husband," she answered, still with coldness, "you are right."
"It's all right about the property, hey? How much is left to you?"
"Whew!" whistled Mr. Ephraim Huxter.--"Well, you have worked your cards well, that's a fact."
"I'll thank you, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley, with dignity, "not to use such low language, or indulge in such insinuations. I did my duty by my husband, and he showed his confidence in me by leaving me his property."
"Well, perhaps that's the right way to put it," said Mr. Huxter. "I'm glad you have feathered your nest so well."
"I must again request you not to indulge in such language," said Mrs. Oakley, in tones of displeasure.
"Come, Jane," said he, "there's no use in trying to deceive me. You made a good thing of it in marrying old Oakley, and you needn't pretend to be broken-hearted because he is dead, and has left you his fortune."
"Hush!" said Mrs. Oakley, closing the door; "what if the servants should hear you talking in this way?"