nown the world over as an
honest collector," broke in Cornelius Allendyce.

"Fifteen--thousand--dollars! Why, that's an _awfully_ big amount, isn't
it?" Beryl appealed helplessly to the lawyer. "Why--of _course_ I'll
sell it--if you're sure it's what you think it is. I--I don't want--"

The little collector handed her one of the beads and a strong magnifying
glass. "Look!" he commanded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, she
made out a tiny crown.

She laughed hysterically. "I see it! I thought that was a scratch. I
never noticed it was on every one. Oh, how queer! A queen wore these!"
She rolled the bead slowly in the palm of her hand. Then she handed it
back. "But I'd much rather have the money than the beads even if a dozen
queens wore them." Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the exotic
atmosphere of the room.

"I explained to Mr. Dominez your situation--and your ambition,"
Cornelius Allendyce put in almost apologetically.

"Mr. Allendyce will represent you in this deal, Miss Lynch, if you care
to think the sale over. However, I am giving you a final offer. You are
young and--"

Beryl reached out both hands with childish impulsiveness. "Oh, I want
the money _now!_ I want to spend it. I want--oh, you don't _know_ all I
want--" She stopped abruptly, confused by the smiles on both men's
faces.

"Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment in cash and the rest I will
deposit in the bank to your credit," explained Cornelius Allendyce.
"You need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear; fortune like
this does not come often to anyone. It's hard, indeed, not to believe
that the little beads _have_ magic."

"I'm dreaming. I'm just _plain dreaming_ and I'll wake up in a minute
and find I'm Beryl Lynch, poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself as
she followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of the street. She
felt of her bulging pocketbook, into which she had put the roll of bills
the little collector had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardian
had counted over, quite seriously. It felt real but it just _couldn't_
be true--

"Now where, my dear? You ought to make this day one you'll never
forget."

"Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? Oh, then--then--can I go to
see Jacques Henri and tell him? I know the way--I can take the Ninth
Avenue Elevated--or--Would it be _very_ foolish if I took a taxi?" Beryl
colored furiously.

"Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the taxi and ke