There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. " (An order which was promptly obeyed. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. "Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. ’ She let out a peal of laughter. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed. Mrs.
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