lent me the
money."

Molly flushed a bewitching rose-colour and appealed with big, pathetic
eyes. It was difficult to be righteously wroth with her, but Sara
steeled her heart.

"You'd no right to borrow," she said shortly.

"No. I know I hadn't. But, don't you see, I thought I should be sure
to win it all back? I couldn't ask Dad for it. Every penny he can spare
goes on something that mother can't possibly do without," added the girl
with unwonted bitterness.

The latter fact was incontrovertible, and Sara remained silent. In her
own mind she regarded Mrs. Selwyn as a species of vampire, sucking out
all that was good, and sweet, and wholesome from the lives of those
about her--even that of her own daughter. Did the woman realize, she
wondered, that instead of being the help all mothers were sent into the
world to be, she was nothing but a hindrance and a stumbling-block?

"I don't know what to do, I simply don't." Molly's humble, dejected
tones broke through the current of Sara's thoughts. "You see, the worst
of it is"--she blushed even more bewitchingly than before--"that I owe
it to a _man_. It's detestable owing money to a man!"--with suppressed
irritation.

Two fine lines drew themselves between Sara's level brows. This was
worse than she had imagined.

"Who is it?" she asked, at last, quietly.

"Lester Kent."

"And who--or what--is Lester Kent?"

"He's--he's an artist--by choice. I mean," stumbled Molly, "that he's
quite well off--he only paints for pleasure. He often runs down from
town for a month or two at a time and takes out a temporary membership
for our club."

"And he has lent you this money?"

"Yes"--rather shamefacedly.

"Well, he must be paid back at once. At once, do you understand? I will
give you the twenty pounds--you're not to bother your father about it."

"Oh, Sara! You are a blessed duck!"

In an instant Molly's cares had slipped from her shoulders, and she
beamed across at her deliverer with the most disarming gratitude.

"Wait a moment," continued Sara firmly. "You must never borrow from Mr.
Kent--or any one else--again."

"Oh, I won't! Indeed, I won't!" Molly was fervent in her assurances.
"I've been wretched over this. Although"--brightening--"Lester Kent was
really most awfully nice about it. He said it didn't matter one bit."

"Did he indeed?" Sara spoke rather grimly. "And how old is this Lester
Kent?"

"How old? Oh"--vaguely--"thirty-five--forty, perhaps. I rea