"Such a funny little man has just gone out!" she exclaimed. "He had a
handkerchief tied round his face as though he had been fighting. What
lazy people!" she added, looking around. "I expected to find tea ready.
Will you please tell me some more about motor-cars, Mr. Arthur?"

She sat on a stool in our midst, and chattered while we fed her with
cakes, and screamed with laughter at Mabane's toast. The tragedy of a
few hours ago seemed to have passed already from her mind. She was all
charm and irresponsibility. The gaunt, bare room, which for years had
mocked all our efforts at decoration, seemed suddenly a beautiful place.
Easily, and with the effortless grace of her fifteen years, she laughed
her way into our hearts.

CHAPTER VII

"Arnold!"

I waved my left hand.

"Don't disturb me for a few minutes, Allan, there's a good chap," I
begged. "I'm hard at it."

"Found your plot, then, eh?"

"I've got a start, anyhow! Give me half an hour. I only want to set the
thing going."

Mabane grunted, and took up his brush. For once I was thankful that we
were alone. At last I saw my way. After weeks of ineffective scribbling
a glimpse of the real thing had come to me.

The stiffness had gone from my brain and fingers. My pen flew over the
paper. The joy of creation sang once more in my heart, tingled in all my
pulses. We worked together and in silence for an hour or more. Then,
with a little sigh of satisfaction, I leaned back in my chair.

"The story goes, then?" Mabane remarked.

"Yes, it goes," I assented, my eyes fixed absently upon the loose sheets
of manuscript strewn all over my desk. Already I was finding it hard to
tear my thoughts away from it.

There was a short silence. Then Mabane, who had been filling his pipe,
came over to my side.

"You heard from the convent this morning, Arnold?"

"Yes! The letter is here. Read it!"

Mabane shook his head.

"I can't read French," he said.

"They want her back again," I told him, thoughtfully. "The woman appears
to be honest enough. She admits that they have no absolute claim--they
do not even know her parentage. They have been paid, she says, regularly
and well for the child's education, and if she is now without a home
they would like her to go back to them. She thinks it possible that
Major Delahaye's relatives, or the people for whom he acted, might
continue the payments, but they are willing to take their risk of that.
The long and short of it is