"Of course you don't. I met her as I went out of the house. I fully meant to call on you, Nellie dear, but Mrs. Rupert wanted me very much, and besides, I knew that she could help me." The others were smiling now, quite satisfied, but John's face had not changed, and as he spoke to her, his voice was hard, suspicious. "Mrs. Mooney says that you have never been to her house. Not once of all the times you have left me to go there." "If you don't stop interrupting me, John, I will never be able to finish my story. I was just trying to tell you that I had been deceiving you. But now Mrs. Rupert has promised to help me, so I don't mind telling you all about it." She looked at them, her face slightly flushed, a little embarrassed; but calm and earnest. To Dr. Crossett she seemed like a child, about to confess some little fault, a fault it knows to be already forgiven. "I am not quite the heartless, selfish girl you seem to think me." There were tears in her eyes now, and her voice trembled. The last trace of displeasure had gone from her father's face. John alone was still standing out against her. "I know," she continued, "that I have been extravagant, and I am going to make up for it. I have been trying to get pupils for a private kindergarten. I have called upon hundreds of wealthy mothers, and, at last, I think that I have the promise of children enough for a start. That is why I wanted to postpone our marriage, John." She turned to him appealingly: "I could not marry you, dear, before I had earned back the money I had spent so foolishly." "My dear." Her father stepped forward, but John was before him. "Can you forgive me, Lola?" Shame and regret made his voice low and husky. "My friends!" Dr. Crossett's cheerful tone broke in upon them. "The man who has a jewel, and does not know its value is an ass. Now that you two can make no more trouble for yourselves, in mercy's name give me my dinner." "I am ashamed, Lola," said her father remorsefully. "But you shall not work any more. After to-morrow night there will be no need for it." He put his arm about her lovingly, thinking proudly of how much his approaching triumph would allow him to do for her. Dr. Crossett turned from them delighted at her triumph, but as he turned the look of suffering on little Nellie's face sobered him. "This child is in pain, Martin!" He stepped quickly to where she sat, forgotten all this time, and bravely trying to conceal her suffering. "My dear Nellie." Dr. Barnhelm went to her remorsefully. "Is it so bad?" "It is bad enough, sir." The child's lip trembled as his kind tone did what the pain could not do, and tears came to her eyes, and she began to sob. "Them dispensary doctors have made it worse," said the mother bitterly. "They say it's no use at all. They--they say her arm's got to go." "When did they tell you this?"