ry of his great
London house, read these words:--

VALFJELDET, NORWAY, August 18th, 1898.

Your niece, Phyllis Oglebay, robbed of her parents by the
remorseless sea, awaits the directions of her uncle.

OLAF ULVESAKKER, _Postmaster_.

Ten days later, Sir Peter Oglebay, with a drawn face, rode homeward
through fog-enveloped streets, with a small girl in his arms. One of
Phyllis's hands held Sir Peter's tightly, and her tired, little head
rested upon his shoulder.

There was a sale, of course, of the thousand luxurious trifles with
which improvident Robert Oglebay and his beautiful, spirited,
improvident wife had surrounded themselves; trifles which had helped to
create the artistic atmosphere that was the breath of life to them. Half
a hundred creditors divided the proceeds.

When Sir Peter asked Phyllis what he should save from the wreck for her
(not in those words, however) she asked him to send for all the
valentines her papa had given her mamma.

"Her name was Valentine, you know, Uncle Peter," explained Phyllis. "I
think it is the beautifullest name there is. Long before I was born, and
long before they were married, my papa gave my mamma valentines, new
ones and old ones too but mostly old ones. They were the prettiest. Some
of them are a hundred years old. They are ever so pretty, Uncle Peter,
and she let me play with them, whole boxes full of them. I loved them
best of all my playthings. Sometimes my papa called me his little
Valentine, but they named me Phyllis, after my grandmamma, my papa's
mamma. Why, Uncle Peter, she was your mamma, too, wasn't she?" Phyllis,
sitting on Sir Peter's lap, regarded him gravely, with new interest. In
the end, however, she returned to the subject. All the valentines--boxes
and boxes of them--were to be brought to her, if Uncle Peter pleased.

[Illustration: SHE WAS YOUR MAMMA, TOO, WASN'T SHE?]

His bookseller bought in the valentines for Sir Peter.

"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Rowlandson, when he read the order.

The sale catalogue described it as one of the most remarkable
collections ever brought together, and intimated that the Museum should
take advantage of a rare opportunity.

Another dealer was commissioned to buy one of Robert's pictures.

"Any one,--the best. Use your own judgment," said Sir Peter.

It was a charming study, unfinished, of course, that came the next
afternoon: a boat, rolling heavily in gray water; and seen thro