Dora sighed as she sat down in front of her glass. Mary hastened to comb and brush her young mistress’s hair. It was like old times to Dora, having her hair brushed by a maid--the old times when Mr Maybury was wealthy and held his head high in the commercial world. But now, alas! he was only a clerk in the office of the man who had taken Dora to the theatre that night! Her diamonds came from the man who paid her father a weekly wage! "Oh, Miss, wasn’t the pantomime _lovely_?" "Yes, it was very nice," replied Dora, absent-mindedly. Then, rousing herself a little, she said: "And did you enjoy the concert, Mary?" "Oh, Miss Dora, it was grand! And so was the doctor, Miss!" "Did he sing well?" "_Sing_! I should think he did! You should ’ave ’eard ’em larf! They wouldn’t let ’im leave off. They clapped and ’oorayed every time--them children--till I thought they’d never stop. Funny ain’t the word. I very nearly split in ’arf, Miss! There was five hundred children, and ’eaps of other folk, and the vicar and ’is curates, and their lady friends--and they larfed as much as the children did, Miss. And right at the end ’e sang a little song--to finish with--which was funny at first, and then made you feel you’d like to cry. And the kiddies kept quite quiet in that part--they seemed to understand, Miss. And when he’d done, Miss, he bowed to all the children just as if they were lords and ladies, and it was real pretty to see the little girls kiss their hands to ’im, and the doctor kiss his hand back to them! Everybody enjoyed it, and them kids went ’ome as ’appy as if they’d each found a shillin’." Mary dilated on the concert at great length, but she went off at last, and Dora was still sitting thoughtfully before the glass when there came yet another knock at her door. She rose from her chair and went to see who it was. "May I come in a moment, dear?" It was Mr Maybury. "I wanted to hear how you enjoyed the pantomime." For reply, Dora flung her arms round her father’s neck and burst into tears. "Why, Dora, dear--what is the matter?" But Dora still sobbed upon his shoulder. "Is it anything to do with Mr Jefferson, dearest?" "Yes," said Dora. "You have not quarrelled, I hope?" Dora lifted her head and looked bravely into her father’s eyes. "No, we haven’t quarrelled, father dear. On the way home he asked me to marry him within a month from now." "And you said?" "And I promised that I would, father." *CHAPTER XXI.* *A MATTER OF WAGES.* After this declaration, Dora’s father, knowing something of the nature of women, expected a fresh outburst of tears. But none came. Dora turned towards her glass, and a moment later wheeled round with a smile upon her face. "And so, you see, dear," she said, "you must make the most of me, while you have me. It does seem a short time, doesn’t it--a month--such a very little time for us to be together!"