minds, and
this was one of them. It was a dull wet day, and the streets looked dark
and dingy; the rain was driving in her face, and her heart was with
Raymond in the garret, where he was tossing in restless fever; but the
brave little maiden went on steadily, until she reached Mr. Herbert
Smith's door.

She rang at the bell, and asked to see the artist. The servant, well
accustomed to receiving every variety in the way of visitors to his
master, models, &c., &c., ushered her up a long stair into the studio.

Why, there sat the gentleman who had once looked so kindly at her in the
picture-shop; she had often wondered who he could be.

"A little girl to see you, sir," said the servant, and then withdrew.
Mr. Smith was reading his newspaper, seated in an easy-chair, arrayed in
dressing-gown and slippers, with a cigar in his mouth, and a cup of
fragrant coffee by his side.

He turned round impatiently, but when he saw Madge, his expression
changed to one of easy good-humour.

"Mr. Jeffery--please, sir, he told me to come to you," said little
Madge, while she looked down on the ground.

"Oh, yes, I remember; and so you have come to give me a sitting?"

"A what, sir?"

"A sitting, my child; to let me paint your eyes and hair."

"Please sir, I came to show you this; Raymond's ill;" and she held out
the cherished picture.

[Illustration: THE GREAT ARTIST.]

"Ah, yes; lay it down. I'll look at it presently; but, meanwhile, I must
lose no time in transferring you to canvas. Now, then, take your place,
so; your head a little more turned to the light." And in a few minutes,
with easy, rapid strokes, the artist was progressing in his work.

"And what is your name, my little girl?" he asked presently.

"Madge Leicester," she replied softly.

"Your eyes have grown sadder than they were when I last saw you, Madge!"
They were very sad then, for large tears were gathering in them, and
rolling down the thin white cheeks.

She raised her hand and dashed them away.

"What is it all about?" said Mr. Smith.

"O Raymond, Raymond!" she faltered.

"Is Raymond your brother?"

"Yes."

"Have you a father and mother?"

"My mother is dead, and my father is away, and Raymond is ill."

"Poor child, where do you live?"

Madge told him.

"And does no one care for you?"

"Oh yes, Raymond does."

"But I mean, does no one do anything for you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Smiley is minding him while I'm out!"

"How did you come to lea