months in visiting friends. This year I’ll refuse all invitations, so that you shan’t be deprived of any more of my valuable society.”

“And why should you give up your pleasures, pray? Why are you so precious anxious to be with the boy? Are you going to aid and abet him in his efforts?”

“Yes, I am!” answered Margot bravely. “He has his life to live, and I want him to spend it in his own way. If he becomes a great writer, I’ll be prouder of him than if he were the greatest millionaire on earth. I’ll move heaven and earth to help him, and if he fails I’ll move them again to make him a good underwriter! So now you know!”

Mr Vane chewed his moustache, disconsolately resigned.

“Ah well! the partnership will have to go to a stranger, I suppose. I can’t get on much longer without help. I hoped it might be one of my own kith and kin, but—”

“Don’t be in a hurry, dear. I may fall in love with a pauper, and then you can have a son-in-law to help you, instead of a son.”

Mr Vane pushed her away with an impatient hand.

“No more son-in-laws, thank you! One is about as many as I can tackle at a time. Edith has been at me again with a sheaf of bills—”

His eldest daughter’s husband had recently failed in business, in consequence of which he himself was at present supporting a second establishment. He sighed, and reflected that it was a thankless task to rear a family. The infantine troubles of teething, whooping-cough, and scarlatina were trifles as compared with the later annoyance and difficulties of dealing with striplings who had the audacity to imagine themselves grown-up, and competent to have a say in their own lives!

If things turned out well, they took the credit to themselves! If ill, then papa had to pay the bills! Mr Vane was convinced that he was an ill-used and much-to-be-pitied martyr.

Chapter Two.

The Sisters.

Mr Vane’s house overlooked Regent’s Park, and formed the corner house of a white terrace boasting Grecian pillars and a railed-in stretch of grass in front of the windows. The rooms were large and handsome, and of that severe, box-like outline which are the despair of the modern upholsterer. The drawing-room boasted half a dozen windows, four in 

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