Then came the sudden death of old Mr. Buckley, and the arrival in London of his daughter Alma. The girls had corresponded occasionally, and the first thing Alma did when she reached London was to visit her old friend. The acquaintance which had been so close in the country soon ripened again, and this time into a life-long friendship. With her father now beyond hope of salvation drifting rapidly downward, this companionship was a great consolation to Miss Larchester. Old Buckley had left more money behind him than people would have expected, and every penny had gone to the daughter. It was, of course, only a very modest competence, but it removed the girl for ever from any fear of poverty so long as she did not touch the capital, which being a very level-headed young woman she was never tempted to do. She was a very kind friend to the Larchesters—helping them often in their hours of need, which grew more and more frequent, as the artist’s powers of self-control waxed weaker and his capacity for work declined in consequence. She did not, however, propose to live on a small income all her life. Her great ambition was to go on the stage, but as her several attempts in this direction met with no result, she grew less ambitious, and in time blossomed into a music-hall artist who could generally rely upon engagements at moderate fees which made a very pleasant addition to her private income. She was fairly launched in this career when Larchester died after a lingering illness, the cause of death being an internal malady which had been greatly aggravated by his dissolute habits, the doctor declaring that his organs were those of a man ten years his senior. One would have predicted that a man of his type would have left his daughter absolutely penniless. Fortunately, this was not the case. At a very early age he had taken out a life-policy for fifteen hundred pounds, the premium being very low. To his credit, be it said, he had strained every nerve to keep it up, even knocking off his drink when the time approached for payment. Under the guidance of her friend, who was a very shrewd young woman of business, Miss Larchester invested this capital sum judiciously; the interest would keep her from absolute starvation. With the exception of Alma Buckley she had nobody to whom she could turn for advice or assistance. Her father had been a member of a highly respectable family, with members in the professions of the Church, the Army, and the Law, but they had early parted company with the dissolute artist, and had never seen either his wife or child. Her mother had been a country girl, the daughter of a small village shopkeeper whom Larchester had met in his wanderings in search of the picturesque, and fallen in love with. Of that mother’s kith and kin she knew nothing.