denly become philanthropic, and when the General Orphan Asylum was
building she gave some fifty thousand dollars for a cottage in her
name. What's more, the trustees of the Asylum accepted it without the
wink of an eyelash. Funny, isn't it?

"But here's the point: some rich old fellow has willed the institution
a fund whose income every year is used to buy clothing for the
kiddies; and they have a sort of celebration on the day the duds are
given out, and the public is invited to inspect the place and the
inmates, and eat a bit, and look around generally. Well, my
washerwoman tells me that the Beaubien always attends these annual
celebrations. The next one, I learn, comes in about a month. I propose
that we attend; take Carmen; ask permission for her to sing to the
children, and thereby attract the attention of the gorgeous Beaubien,
who will be sure to speak to the girl, who is herself an orphan, and,
ten to one, want to see more of her. The rest is easy. I'll have a
word to say regarding our immense debt of gratitude to her for saving
Jim's fortune years ago when he was entangled in her net--and, well,
if that scheme doesn't work, I have other strings to my bow."

But it did work, and with an ease that exceeded the most sanguine
hopes of its projector. On the day that the General Orphan Asylum
threw wide its doors to the public, the Hawley-Crowles limousine
rubbed noses with the big French car of the Beaubien in the street
without; while within the building the Beaubien held the hand of the
beautiful girl whose voluntary singing had spread a veil of silence
over the awed spectators in the great assembly room, and, looking
earnestly down into the big, trusting, brown eyes, said: "My dear
child, I want to know you." Then, turning to the eager, itching Mrs.
Hawley-Crowles, "I shall send my car for her to-morrow afternoon, with
your permission."

With her permission! Heavens! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles wildly hugged her
sister and the girl all the way home--then went to bed that night with
tears of apprehension in her washed-out eyes, lest she had shown
herself too eager in granting the Beaubien's request. But her fears
were turned to exultation when the Beaubien car drew up at her door
the following day at three, and the courteous French chauffeur
announced his errand. A few moments later, while the car glided
purring over the smooth asphalt, Carmen, robed like a princess, lay
back in the cushions and dreamed of the poor pri