Mr. Kinsella did not answer for a moment, but finally said, changing the
subject: "There is one thing I am going to ask of you for auld lang syne
and I think maybe you will grant it: let Elise put in this winter in a
good studio in Paris. She is hungry for a long period of uninterrupted
work and I know it will soften her toward you instead of hardening her;
and I feel sure that when the dreaded twenty-fifth birthday arrives, she
will want to settle half of the fortune on you. Do this for me, Lizzie.
I guarantee it will come out well for you."

Mrs. Huntington hesitated for a moment and then by a quick calculation
came to the conclusion that it would be a good thing, after all, and
would leave her free to go where she chose. She well knew how cheaply a
girl could board in Paris when she was at work in a studio, and, as Tom
said, there was every chance of her picking up a rich husband among the
students. There were always some young men who were rolling in wealth,
but still had the artistic bee in their bonnets.

"I'll do it, Tom, but if it turns out badly I'll have you to thank."

"Lizzie, now you are more like your old self and I am grateful to you
for this concession. Come, let us find Elise and tell her the good
news."

Molly was indeed glad to have the interview over. It was against her
whole honest nature to eavesdrop, but she felt it best for all concerned
for her to remain quiet. As soon as Mr. Kinsella and Mrs. Huntington had
disappeared, Molly beat a hasty retreat to her stateroom where her
mother was looking for her, not being able to find her on deck.

"Oh, Mother, I am so excited!" And she told Mrs. Brown all about her
forced concealment during the intimate conversation between the old
lovers.

"It is very interesting, certainly, and I hardly know how you could help
being a listener. Since it will go no farther, as of course neither of
us will ever mention the matter to a soul, it will do no harm. I wish
you had not had to hear it, however, as I hate for my Molly to realize
that such women as Mrs. Huntington exist, so cold and selfish and
worldly. I am glad poor Elise is to be allowed to stay in Paris all
winter and work. Perhaps we can make up to her some for her mother's
heartlessness."

So mother and daughter kissed and went to bed; Molly waked the next
morning with no trace of seasickness, ready and eager to enjoy the rest
of the voyage.

The trip was delightful to both mother and daughter. They