n an easy, lavish way, and she knew no other.

It hurt Miss Sarah,--foolishly, but naturally,--that her nephew should
have to pay board out of his small salary; and when one week he
omitted to hand her the usual five dollars, she could not bear to ask
him for it, although the lack of it put her to some inconvenience.

To Wayland things seemed moving on easily enough at home. He had
become almost reconciled to the boarders, who made possible the more
elaborate table; and it seemed to him quite impossible that so small a
sum could make any great difference. He meant to pay it in time, but
just now he was hard up. He had made the mistake of trying to be a
society man, to compete with those whose incomes were many times as
large as his own. In his heart he knew the purchase of that fan for
Madelaine was a piece of inexcusable extravagance, but he had been too
weak to resist.

Madelaine was most gracious in these days to Winston Graham, a
pampered youth whom Wayland had despised from his babyhood, and had
tyrannized over at school. Now the tables were turned. Years had
improved Winston, and any lack of brilliancy was more than atoned for
by an ample fortune, in the management of which he was showing
unexpected shrewdness.

For the moment that foolish fan had brought him a little pleasure.
There could be no doubt Madelaine guessed the sender. Somebody was
absurd, she said; if she were certain who sent it, she would return
it,--and then she smiled bewitchingly over the gauzy trifle that had
cost more than half a month's salary.

Miss Sarah was in some measure to blame. She should have taken her
nephew into her confidence. Such things as taxes and unexpected
plumber's bills did not present themselves to his mind, and when he
presently found himself in debt, he went so far as to wonder if she
might not be able to help him out,--temporarily, of course.

It was not till matters had grown desperate that he decided to do
this. Wayland was not in the habit of getting into debt, and an
insistent tailor and florist made his life miserable. With masculine
obtuseness he chose the most unpropitious moment. Miss Sarah, after a
hard day, had dropped into an easy-chair for a little rest after
dinner. Wayland had forgotten the absence of the cook, and in the
lamplight his aunt looked placid and comfortable.

"Aunt Sarah," he began, "I am rather hard up just now--"

"Never mind, dear, I can get along, I think. You can pay me back
som