“Young man, your insinuations are an insult. And whether Madelaine happens to be here or not, I don’t want you around my house.” “All right, give me some kale and I’ll blow.” “I’ll give you nothing.” “But look it, Aunt Gracia, I’ve got to have a place to sleep and eat, haven’t I? And the governor’ll be sore if he comes back and knows I asked you for dough and you gave me the icy stare.” Biting her lip, the woman trailed across the room and stood by the window, looking out. After all, the boy’s father would reimburse her and it was better than having him remain under the same roof with Madelaine. “How much do you want?” she demanded. “Oh, a thousand will do! Till I need more.” And the youngster laughed. “A thousand dollars! Are you crazy?” “No, but if I set the figure lower you’d fork it across. And I’d rather stick around.” Gracia sat down at her desk, wrote a check and ripped it from the check book. “Now get out!” she ordered. The boy’s bad eyelid flopped again. “Until it’s gone, Aunt Grace,” he chaffed. “Happy days!” “If I had my way, young man, you’d land in reform school. Get out!” Gracia Theddon whirled, however, at sound of a voice from the door. “You’re not sending him away on my account, are you, mother dear? I’m sure he didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t find you and was looking for the maid. And besides, I should have locked my door.” “You should have done nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Theddon replied angrily. “He had no right to enter a girl’s room——” “Introduce us, Aunt Grace. I thought I’d met the family.” Gracia Theddon waged a quick battle with her temper. She introduced the two,—stiffly. “I’m sorry I was rude,” the boy said awkwardly a moment later. “But, you see, everybody goes on the idea that I’m a roughneck and a low-brow and I—I—well, I’ve got to live up to my reputation.” He shot a challenge at his aunt. “I won’t think you a roughneck or low-brow—whatever those things mean,” Madelaine returned. “And I’m sure we can be friends. You’re not sending him away, mother dear, before I’ve even a chance to get acquainted with the only cousin I have?” “He’s not your cousin——” Gracia began angrily. She meant to infer that Gordon and Madelaine had nothing in common in the matter of breeding or character. If she had not paused, she could have covered the break and it might not have been noticed. But she did pause and the Fairy Foundling flamed scarlet. For it taunted her with the old, old ache that after all she was a nobody, living on the Theddon generosity—a child from an orphanage—or one who had been bought like a pretty slave for a thousand dollars to ameliorate an affluent woman’s loneliness. “Then we’ll try to play the game that we are cousins,” Madelaine contended. “I’m sure you’ve been mistaken about Gordon. It isn’t fair to believe people are some things until there’s nothing left for them to do but become those things—is it?”