“Let me think, Daughter,” he said meditatively. “I have a friend I should like to consult about it. It is very possible that it may be the best thing. We’ll talk it over again tomorrow. Come down here about this time and we’ll decide.” Lucy kissed her father, amazed at his complaisance. “I wonder who the friend he spoke of is,” she said to herself as she went back to the house. “Papa’ll probably have to borrow money of him to send me away.” * * * * * The following day Mrs. Merwent preserved an air of gentle sadness and grief, replying softly to her daughter’s remarks but avoiding any reference to what had happened. When Lucy went out a little before the hour appointed for the conference at the office, Nannie did not ask her errand, but returned the girl’s kiss and volunteered a statement that she would not be gone long, with a look of patient melancholy. “Well, it is all arranged,” were Arthur’s first words, as he greeted Lucy. “You are to go to Chicago where I have planned for you to stay with the relative of a friend. We agree--that is, I agree that you couldn’t do better than go to the Art School, as it is a recognized institution and the courses are reliable.” “Oh, Papa, thank you so much!” “The thanks are due to someone else, Lucy, and I hope some day you can thank the friend who has made it possible.” “Who is it, Papa? Is it someone I know?” Mr. Merwent looked at her a moment before replying. “It’s a woman friend, Lucy, Mrs. Ellen Low.” He continued to regard his daughter. Lucy’s face turned pink. “I didn’t know you knew her, Papa,” she said. Mr. Merwent, though he did not take his eyes from the young girl’s, seemed, in his turn, somewhat embarrassed. “Yes, I’ve known her quite a while. When her husband died I was retained with Mr. Blair to settle up the estate,” he answered. “Oh!” Lucy relapsed into thoughtful silence. She knew Mrs. Low by sight and in spite of herself rather liked the pleasant homely face with its strongly marked features, though she had, almost against her will, absorbed some of the prejudiced tone in which she had heard her mother and grandmother make occasional references to the woman. Mrs. Low was the widow of a handsome man, who had been very fond of the ladies, and she had not lived happily with him. She appeared, in a whimsical way, to hold men in little awe. The unpopularity of her outspoken manner, which voiced a point of view that Russellville found unbecoming in a lady, had sent her to seek a more congenial atmosphere with relatives in Chicago. However, she continued to spend several months of each year in her native town. “I expect you have accepted the family’s hostility to Mrs. Low, Lucy,” Arthur went on after a minute. “I’ve hardly ever heard Mamma speak of her,” Lucy returned, her glance drooping before the bitter, slightly amused expression that crept into her father’s face.