I mean by this, that Mr. Wynne’s watch had long been ticketed in a pawnbroker’s window, that Madeline’s one little brooch had gone the same way; also--oh, breathe it not!--her best gown and hat; also Mr. Wynne’s top coat and evening dress clothes; that the invalid alone tasted meat--and in scanty portions--Madeline telling many clever fibs with regard to her own dinner. Her inexhaustible spirits and vivacity seemed to sustain her--that, and a little bread and tea. The one person who was well-to-do was the baby. He was clothed in a beautiful cloak and hood--Mr. Jessop’s gifts--purchased, with many blushes, by that keen-eyed, close-shaven gentleman, and presented with pride to his godson and namesake. More than once Madeline’s mental eye had seen these sumptuous garments smuggled away to the pawnbroker’s round the corner, but she fought hard with the idea, and had sternly kept it at bay--as yet. Their circumstances were, indeed, all but desperate, when one evening Mr. Jessop came thundering up the stairs, newspaper in hand, and panted out, as he threw himself into the nearest chair and took off his hat-- “I say, Mrs. Wynne, what was your name before you were married?” “My name,” she echoed, looking blankly at him, for she was trying to keep the baby quiet and to do some copying simultaneously--vain and exasperating task--“was West--Madeline West.” “Ah! I thought so!” he cried triumphantly, clearing his throat and unfolding his paper with a flourish. “Then just listen to this:--‘MADELINE WEST.--If this should meet the eye of Madeline Sidney West, she is earnestly implored to communicate with Mrs. H. of H. House, at once, when she will hear of something greatly to her advantage.’ Now what do you think of that?” he demanded of his friend, who, drawn up near a handful of cinders, had been poring over a law book. “Looks like a legacy, doesn’t it?” “Too good to be true, I’m afraid. Eh, Madeline?” Madeline turned her face alternately on the two men. A faint colour had invaded her thin, white cheeks, and her eyes brightened as she said-- “There is no harm in answering the notice; it may mean something.” “Why, of course it does,” cried Mr. Jessop, emphatically. “Get a pen, give me the infant, and write a line now, and I’ll post it.” And Madeline accordingly sat down and wrote to Mrs. Harper on the spot, whilst her companions watched her in silence. “DEAR MRS. HARPER, “I have seen your notice in the _Times_ of to-day. My address is--2, Solferino Place, Westminster. “Yours truly, “M. W.” She was so accustomed to sign merely her initials, and was so flurried between anticipation, anxiety, excitement, and the screams of the baby, that she never had the presence of mind to write her full name, and on this slight omission, this one little cog, turned a most important factor in her future career.