ing
ready to greet them.

"My child!" exclaimed the noble lady, as she folded Winnifred to her
heart. Then she turned to her son. "Let her know all!" she cried.

Lord Mordaunt stepped across the room to a curtain. He drew it aside,
and there stepped forth Mr. Bonehead, the old lawyer who had cast
Winnifred upon the world.

"Miss Clair," said the Lawyer, advancing and taking the girl's hand for
a moment in a kindly clasp, "the time has come for me to explain all.
You are not, you never were, the penniless girl that you suppose. Under
the terms of your father's will, I was called upon to act a part and to
throw you upon the world. It was my client's wish, and I followed it. I
told you, quite truthfully, that I had put part of your money into
options in an oil-well. Miss Clair, that well is now producing a million
gallons of gasolene a month!'

"A million gallons!" cried Winnifred. "I can never use it."

"Wait till you own a motor-car, Miss Winnifred," said the Lawyer.

"Then I am rich!" exclaimed the bewildered girl.

"Rich beyond your dreams," answered the Lawyer. "Miss Clair, you own in
your own right about half of the State of Texas--I think it is in Texas,
at any rate either Texas or Rhode Island, or one of those big states in
America. More than this, I have invested your property since your
father's death so wisely that even after paying the income tax and the
property tax, the inheritance tax, the dog tax and the tax on
amusements, you will still have one half of one per cent to spend."

Winnifred clasped her hands.

"I knew it all the time," said Lord Mordaunt, drawing the girl to his
embrace, "I found it out through this good man."

"We knew it too," said the Marchioness. "Can you forgive us, darling,
our little plot for your welfare? Had we not done this Mordaunt might
have had to follow you over to America and chase you all around Newport
and Narragansett at a fearful expense."

"How can I thank you enough?" cried Winnifred. Then she added eagerly,
"And my birth, my descent?"

"It is all right," interjected the Old Lawyer. "It is A 1. Your father,
who died before you were born, quite a little time before, belonged to
the very highest peerage of Wales. You are descended directly from
Claer-ap-Claer, who murdered Owen Glendower. Your mother we are still
tracing up. But we have already connected her with Floyd-ap-Floyd, who
murdered Prince Llewellyn."

"Oh, sir," cried the grateful girl. "I only hop