d up at once. It will be a stroke of luck for us both. I
never thought that invention would turn up trumps after all these years.
Good-bye! I have an appointment to keep and must hurry off."

He was gone, but left a very fluttered Lesbia behind him. The news was
overwhelming. She knew that when her own father died there had been no
provision for his wife and baby, that fact had often been cast in her
teeth by Mrs. Patterson and other relations. It was her stepfather, Mr.
Hilton, and her stepbrother, Paul, who had provided for her during her
childhood and educated her. She had had nothing whatever of her own. Was
that humiliation at last to be lifted from her? However small this luck
of which Mr. Ford spoke it would seem riches to a girl possessed of no
income at all.

"If it's enough to take me to Paris for even one year's painting I'd
nearly stand on my head with joy," she thought. "I don't know how I'm
going to live till this evening. Suppose the patent doesn't sell after
all? It would be like my luck! How funny that I should meet Mr. Ford
here this afternoon. It really was a coincidence, just when he had had
the offer. What a horrible disappointment if the whole thing falls
through. I've a feeling it will never really come off!"

But it did come off. The Goddess of Fortune, who had hitherto meted out
rather Spartan treatment to Lesbia, turned her wheel and scattered
favours for once. Mr. Patterson managed all the business transactions,
and before the end of the summer term Lesbia found herself, if not
exactly an heiress, in a position of comparative independence. There was
amply enough for an art education, and that was her main concern.
Instead of being obliged to carry on an uncongenial occupation she could
take Mr. Moxon's advice and go to study in Paris. Miss Joyce had a
cousin who was working at Mesurier's studio, and who promised to find
room for Lesbia in her flat, and to initiate her into the art-student
life of the place when the autumn term should commence. The blazing
prospect seemed the very summit of human desire. No girl could possibly
have a happier time in store for her.

Then one day there arrived for Mrs. Patterson a letter with a Canadian
postmark. She opened it, read it, and handed it to Kitty, with the
explanation:

"It's from Mabel Johnson. She says she's been to see the Hiltons. Minnie
seems in a bad way, poor thing."

"Minnie! What's the matter with Minnie?" cried Lesbia, suddenly
inter