. . Come, I've thought of that, as a
godfather should. You're aware that, a couple of years ago, a small
legacy dropped in upon me--a trifling windfall of ten guineas a year.
Well, I've been wasting it on luxuries--a few books I don't read, a
more expensive brand of tobacco, which really is no better than the
old shag, some extra changes of body-linen. Now since the Education
Act of 1902 the fees in the public secondary day schools have been
cut down to a figure quite ridiculously low, and the private day
schools have been forced to follow suit. I dare say that seven
pounds a year will send Corona, say, to Miss Dickinson's genteel
seminary--nay, I'll undertake to beat the lady down to that sum--and
I shall still be left with three pounds and ten shillings to squander
on shirts. Now if you start thanking me--Ah, there goes the
dinner-bell! Hurry, man--you're first on the roster!"

CHAPTER XV.

CANARIES AND GREYCOATS.

So Corona was sent to school; but not, as it befell, to Miss
Dickinson's.

Brother Copas, indeed, paid a visit to Miss Dickinson, and, warned by
some wise instinct, took the child with him.

Miss Dickinson herself opened the front door, and explained with an
accent of high refinement that her house-parlourmaid was indisposed
that morning, and her cook busy for the moment.

"You have some message for me?" she asked graciously; for the
Brethren of St. Hospital pick up a little business as letter-carriers
or _commissionaires_.

On learning her visitor's errand, of a sudden she stiffened in
demeanour. Corona, watching her face intently, noted the change.

"Dear me, what a very unusual application!" said Miss Dickinson, but
nevertheless invited them to step inside.

"We can discuss matters more freely without the child," she
suggested.

"As you please, ma'am," said Copas, "provided you don't ask her to
wait in the street."

Corona was ushered into an apartment at the back--the boudoir, its
mistress called it--and was left there amid a din of singing
canaries, while Miss Dickinson carried off Brother Copas to the
drawing-room.

The boudoir contained some scholastic furniture and a vast number
of worthless knick-knacks in poker-work, fret-work, leathern
_applique_-work, gummed shell-work, wool-work, tambour-work, with
crystoleum paintings and drawings in chalk and water-colour.
On a table in front of the window stood a cage with five canaries
singing in it. Corona herself felt a sen