nt, and that he had not been mistaken when he had
foreseen her destiny, and, "single-handed against the world," forced its
fulfilment.

Usually, upon reading one of Papa Claude's pyrotechnical efforts, Quin
went to see Madam Bartlett. After all, he and the old lady were paddling
in the same canoe, and their only chance of success was in pulling
together.

As the end of the six months of probation approached, Madam became more
and more anxious. Ever since Eleanor's high-handed departure she had been
undergoing a metamorphosis. Like most autocrats, the only things of which
she took notice were the ones that impeded her progress. When they proved
sufficiently formidable to withstand annihilation, she awarded them the
respect that was their due. Eleanor's childish whim, heretofore crushed
under her disapprobation, now loomed as a terrifying possibility. The
girl had proved her mettle by living through the winter on a smaller
allowance than Madam paid her cook. She had shown perseverance and pluck,
and an amazing ability to get along without the aid of the family. In a
few months she would be of age, and with the small legacy left her by her
spendthrift father, would be in a position to snap her fingers in the
face of authority.

"If it weren't for that fool Phipps I'd have her home in twenty-four
hours," Madam declared to Quin. "She'll be wanting to take a professional
engagement next."

Quin tried to reassure her, but his words rang hollow. He too was growing
anxious as the months passed and Eleanor showed no sign of returning. He
longed to throw his influence with Madam's in trying to induce her to
come back before it was too late. The only thing that deterred him was
his sense of fair play to Eleanor.

"You let Miss Nell work it out for herself," he advised; "don't threaten,
her or persuade her or bribe her. Leave her alone. She's got more common
sense than you think. I bet she'll get enough of it by May."

"Well, if she doesn't, I'm through with her, and you can tell her so. I
meant to make Eleanor a rich woman, but, mark my word, if she goes on the
stage I'll rewrite my will and cut her off without a penny. I'll even
entail what I leave Isobel and Enid. I'll make her sorry for what she's
done!"

But with the approach of spring it was Madam who was sorry and not
Eleanor. Quin's sympathies were roused every time he saw the old lady.
Her affection and anxiety fought constantly against her pride and
bitterness. Fo