ppiness
on your face and hear your words of approval than all the applause of
that crowd."

"And you are perfectly happy?" he asked with enthusiasm.

"Certainly not!" she cried, emphatically. "No real woman ever does this
for the thing itself. It's done only to please her hero that is, or is
to be. I shall never be perfectly happy until I've a little nest of my
own and the man I love is always by my side."

"He'll be a lucky man, little girl. And he must be a good one to get my
consent. You can't marry without it you know."

"I shall not!" she answered with a laugh.

When Harriet drew herself quietly from Stuart's arms he turned and saw
Nan standing in the doorway, with a curious smile on her flushed face.

"May I, too, offer my congratulations, Miss Woodman?" she asked. "I
hope you have forgotten the lack of appreciation you met at the hands
of my crowd of thoughtless banqueters in the ovation you have had this
evening."

Harriet's little figure suddenly stiffened at the sight of Nan, but at
the sound of her friendly voice, relaxed, and moved to meet the
extended hand.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bivens," she replied cordially. "I couldn't hold a
grudge against any one in that audience to-night."

And then Stuart did something that sent a shock through every fibre of
Nan's being.

As easily and naturally as a big brother, he slipped one of his long
arms around Harriet and looked down with frank admiration into her
eyes.

"You see, Nan, she's mine. I raised her from a wee little mite. And
this was such a cruel and dangerous experiment--she had no chance. It
was impossible--but, God bless her, she did it!"

Nan apologized for hurrying away and Stuart was compelled to follow.

As he settled back among the soft cushions of the car by her side and
the big machine glided swiftly up Broadway toward the Bivens palace,
his enthusiasm burst out anew:

"Honestly, Nan, don't you think her a wonderful little girl? And just
to think she's my kid----"

"Rather a remarkably developed kid, Jim!" was the laughing answer.
"She's splendid. The depth and range, power and sweetness of her voice
are marvellous. Her fame will fill the world."

"Then you can't wonder that I'm proud of her."

"No," she answered, dreamily. She could afford to be generous. Warned
in time and she had made up her mind instantly to act on a plan that
had been vaguely forming and tempting her for the past months. It was
her trump card; she had hesitated