What makes money on the Internet?

What makes money on the Internet?

Smith, almost savagely.

Miss Maggie laughed again.

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"I don't know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything—utter strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he HAS recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed them a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he'd give the rest somewhere else."

"Humph! Maybe," grunted Mr. Smith.

"And he may come back alive from South America"

"But Hattie isn't counting on either of these contingencies, and she is counting on the money," sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. "And Jim,—poor Jim!—I'm afraid he's going to find it just as hard to keep caught up now—as he used to."

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"Humph!" Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking out of the window, apparently in deep thought.

Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.

The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She was with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr. Smith had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably. Then, to his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.

"Mr. Smith, I know it's on the street, but I—I want Mr. Gray to meet you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is—is a very good friend of mine, Donald."

Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance

into his face. The blush, the hesitation, the shy happiness in

Mellicent's eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that

Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know—a good deal about.

He chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to Miss

"Who's Donald Gray, please?" he demanded.