"Oh, as to that, no one can tell--probably not, but there are delays always liable to occur in the disposing of a patent. But this one is in such demand--no, I think there will hardly be much delay. Not that it matters seriously--the important thing is to get it off my mind; that will leave me free, as I said. But run along and take this check to your mother, Rob; she must be gladdened as soon as possible. Just wait till I make it payable to her order," added Mr. Grey, seating himself at the table. "Indeed, I am not going to take it to her, Patergrey," declared Rob. "You must give it to her yourself; what have I to do with it?" "Oh, I can't," said Mr. Grey, flushing and hanging back like a school-boy. "You have a great deal to do with it. Take it, and tell her you got me to write the article, there's a good fellow!" "Isn't it queer how almost all American little boys are ashamed to do nice things? But this little boy must do as he's bid," laughed Rob, feeling, as she often did, as though this tall, unpractical, lovable dreamer were actually a little child. "I'll tell you what we'll do: You go out and sit on the steps, Patergrey, and I'll go tell Mardy there are several tons of coal and some other things outside, and send her out to see. And she'll find you there. And when she comes, you'll hand her the check, and after she gets her breath we'll have a jubilation. Run along, little Patergrey; we don't get hundred-dollar checks often enough to take this one in a commonplace, every-day way--we must make a celebration of it." Without giving her father time for further demur, Roberta bundled him out of the door, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing him before her like a particularly active motor-engine. Laughing and breathless, she got him into the ancient wooden arm-chair which stood on the tiny stoop, and ran away in triumph to fetch her mother. "Mardy, Mardy," she cried, rapturously, "coal and other vitals are here--just come out! Go look, and 'drive that shadow from thy brow!'" "Rob, my dear, are you quite crazy?" cried Mrs. Grey. "Only go see! This time it is not the patient you must examine for her sanity, but the front stoop. Drop your duster and obey, Lady Grey!" cried Rob, seizing her mother around the waist and waltzing her irresistibly toward the door. "Rob, you're a scamp," gasped Mrs. Grey--all that she had breath to say--as she kissed Rob's glowing cheek, and yielded. "Wait a minute, Wythie; don't go out there, Prue. Let Mardy see the luck first alone, and then we'll all go, and make a time of it," cried Rob, getting between the other girls and the door. "What is it all about, Rob?" cried Wythie. "Is there really coal there?" added Prue. "The equivalent of much coal. Patergrey wrote an article--by request, mind you--for a magazine, and they have sent him a check for a hundred dollars," cried Rob. "I guess there are people outside of Fayre with brains enough to appreciate our father!"