while
immediately underneath came a sketch of two children, a boy and a girl,
with hands outstretched as though they were offering the petition.
Madge had copied the figures from an old sketch, altering only the dress
to suit the occasion; and a dainty little pair they made, most eloquent
in their dumb entreaty. Beneath came more lettering, setting forth that
Miss Hope Charrington, the children's entertainer, was prepared to give
her charming recitals at Christmas parties, bazaars, or charity
gatherings for the sum of two guineas an hour. A waving, ribbon-like
border edged the sheet, held up at the corners by four characters dear
to the childish heart--the Prince, the Princess, the Fairy, and the
Giant.

"Madge, you darling! How perfectly lo-ovely!" gasped Hope, in delight.
"So clever, so dainty, so--so beautifully professional! But oh, _dare_
I? `Charming recital'! Suppose it is a terrible failure. `Children's
entertainer'! I have never entertained any one in my life. Suppose I
were to break down."

"Practice makes perfect. Of course, you will have to try your hand.
The vicar of Saint Giles's called on us yesterday, and asked if we would
help in the parish. I asked--just as a feeler--if he would like a treat
for the school children, and he snatched at the idea. You are to let
him know what you can do; and if you run the blockade of his
street-arabs you need fear no longer. _They_ won't pretend to be amused
if they are not, that is certain."

"It will be pleasant for me if they hoot in the middle! But I'll put my
feelings in my pocket and do my very best. I must do _something_ with
my life, and I am determined that nervousness sha'n't stand in my way;"
and Hope sighed once more--the short, stabbing little sigh that had come
so often since her return.

When the sisters retired to bed that evening Theo chatted pleasantly
about ordinary matters until the gas was put out; then she stretched out
an arm, and asked in a tenderer tone than was often heard from her lips:

"What is it, deary! What is the trouble? Can you tell me?"

"Oh Theo, how did you know?" cried poor Hope guiltily. "I thought I had
hidden it so well."

And then out it came--the poor little love-story, that was hardly a
love-story at all, but only a "might have been;" the happiness of those
few days, the awakening, the bitter wrench of parting. The soft voice
trembled as it came to the end of the story, and a little sob was
swallow