as your verse."

"Can't think of a plot!"

"Bah! you are behind the times, my dear! You don't need a plot. Begin
in the middle, meander back to the beginning, and end in the thick of
the strife. Then every one wonders and raves, and the public--`mostly
fools!'--think it must be clever, because they don't understand what
it's about."

"Like the lady and the tiger,--which came out first?"

"Ah! if you could think of anything as baffling as that, your future
would be made. Write a novel, Ron, and take me for the heroine. You
might have a poet, too, and introduce some of your own love-songs. I'd
coach you in the feminine parts, and you could give me a royalty on the
sales."

But Ronald shook his head.

"I might try short stories, perhaps--I've thought of that--but not a
novel. It's too big a venture; and we can't spare the time. There are
only four months left, and unless I make some money soon, father will
insist upon that hateful partnership."

The girl left her seat and strolled over to the window. She was
strikingly like her brother in appearance, but a saucy imp of humour
lurked in the corners of her curving lips, and danced in her big brown
eyes.

Margot Vane at twenty-two made a delightful picture of youth and
happiness, and radiant, unbroken health. Her slight figure was upright
as a dart; her cheeks were smooth and fresh as a petal of a rose; her
hair was thick and luxuriant, and she bore herself with the jaunty,
self-confident gait of one whose lines have been cast in pleasant
places, and who is well satisfied of her own ability to keep them
pleasant to the end.

"Anything may happen in four months--and everything!" she cried
cheerily. "I don't say that you will have made your name by September,
but if you have drawn a reasonable amount of blood-money, father will
have to be satisfied. It is in the bond! Work away, and don't worry.
You are improving all the time, and spring is coming, when even ordinary
people like myself feel inspired. We will stick to the ordinary methods
yet awhile, but if matters get desperate, we will resort to strategy.
I've several lovely plans simmering in my brain!"

The boy looked up eagerly.

"Strategy! Plans! What plans? What can we possibly do out of the
ordinary course?"

But Margot only laughed mischievously, and refused to be drawn.

The cruel parent in the case of Ronald Vane was exemplified by an
exceedingly worthy and kind-hearted gentleman, w