he unwelcome attentions of the now thoroughly smitten young Duke
of Altern.

"No," she finally made answer, "I didn't know there were such things
in the world."

Ames laughed pleasantly. How refreshing was this ingenuous girl! And
what a discovery for him! A new toy--one that would last a long time.
But he must be careful of her.

"Yes," he went on genially, "I'll wager there's millions of dollars'
worth of jewelry here to-night."

"Oh!" gasped Carmen. "And are the people going to sell it and give the
money to the poor?"

"Sell it! Ha! ha! Well, I should say not!"

"But--this is a--a charity--"

"Oh, I see. Quite so. No, it's the money derived from the sale of
tickets that goes to the poor."

"And how much is that?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"But--aren't you interested in the poor?"

"Of course, of course," he hastened to assure her, in his easy casual
tone.

For a long time the girl sat reflecting, while he studied her,
speculating eagerly on her next remark. Then it came abruptly:

"Mr. Ames, I have thought a great deal about it, and I think you
people by your charity, such as this, only make more charity
necessary. Why don't you do away with poverty altogether?"

"Do away with it? Well, that's quite impossible, you know. 'The poor
ye have always with you', eh? You see, I know my Bible."

She threw him a glance of astonishment. He was mocking her! She was
deeply serious, for charity to her meant love, and love was all in
all.

"No," she finally replied, shaking her head, "you do _not_ know your
Bible. It is the poor thought that you have always with you, the
thought of separation from good. And that thought becomes manifested
outwardly in what is called poverty."

He regarded her quizzically, while a smile played about his mouth.

"Why don't you get at the very root of the trouble, and destroy the
poverty-thought, the thought that there can be any separation from
God, who is infinite good?" she continued earnestly.

"Well, my dear girl, as for me, I don't know anything about God. As
for you, well, you are very innocent in worldly matters. Poverty, like
death, is inevitable, you know."

"You are mistaken," she said simply. "Neither is inevitable."

"Well, well," he returned brightly, "that's good news! Then there is
no such thing as 'the survival of the fittest,' and the weak needn't
necessarily sink, eh?"

She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Do you consider, Mr. Ames, that
you