"Even the little will be a help to mother and me," she returned more humbly than any one else had ever before heard her speak. "But perhaps I could be useful. Maybe you haven't so many servants as you once had----" Anthony stopped, for Betty's expression had changed so completely. Of course she had already repented of her offer. "We have no servants and you could help a great deal," she answered. And then without any pretense of concealing them, she let two tears slide down her face. "It is only that I had forgotten for the moment that we are not going to be able to stay in our house much longer. We can't afford to keep it for ourselves and I haven't been a success with having boarders. Still it may be some time before we can rent or sell it, and if you will stay here until then----" Betty winced, for her visitor had this time clasped her hand until the pressure of its hard surface hurt. "You know it would be the greatest thing that ever happened for me to be allowed to stay here a week," he added. And Betty laughed. "Then stay." As she opened the front door another visitor stood waiting on the outside. He was almost as unexpected as Anthony Graham. For it was Herr Crippen, the German music professor and Esther's father. "What on earth could he want?" Betty thought irritably. She was beginning to feel anxious to get upstairs to her mother again. For in spite of the fact that she now believed that she had a real affection for Esther, she had never been able to recover from her first prejudice for this shabby, hesitating man. Then his manner toward her was always so apologetic. Why on earth should it be? She was always perfectly polite to him. What a queer combination of Thanksgiving visitors she was having! "Gnaediges Fraeulein," he began. And Betty ushered him into the drawing room. For perhaps he was bringing her news of Esther. CHAPTER III HER PENSION "Good luck never rains but it pours, as well as bad luck, mother," Betty Ashton said one morning nearly a week later. She had just put down a big tray of breakfast on a small table before Mrs. Ashton and now seated herself on the opposite side. Mrs. Ashton sighed. "If your good luck storm has any reference to us, Betty dear, I am sure I don't get your point of view. For if anything but misfortune has followed our footsteps since your father's death I am sure I should like to hear what it is." And Mrs. Ashton shivered, drawing her light woolen shawl closer about her shoulders.