"And if I am, what then?" demanded Rob. "I may be a possibility, but you are an extreme probability, Oswyth, my dear. You are at once a column and a foundation. I'll never be half as useful as you are. Put out the light, Oswyth Grey, and don't talk nonsense! Not but that I'm thankful enough to be added to the column of possible sources of income!" CHAPTER ELEVEN ITS HOPE "Here's a bit of bread for you, Rob, my son," called Mr. Grey from his doorway, waving an envelope alluringly toward Rob, who was on her knees dusting the stairs. "Bread? I'm not hungry, Patergrey; besides, it looks too white to be well baked. What do you mean? Something nice, by the way you're beaming at me." And Rob arose from her humble posture to go to her father and investigate. "It is bread--bread-on-the-waters, my girl," Mr. Grey retorted. "It is the first interest on the money you lent me." "The machine?" cried Rob, trying to seize the letter which her father held tantalizingly above her head. "Oh, tell me quick if it is the machine." "It is the machine. But we mustn't expect too much," Mr. Grey hastily added. "It is by no means sold, nor even appraised. This letter is from a man in New York who is interested in such things, and he writes that he is coming to Fayre the day after to-morrow to look into my improvements in bricquette making. That's all, but it is a beginning, and that's something in itself." "It's a lot!" cried sanguine Rob. "What shall we have for dinner that day? Have you told Mardy?" "I have but just come in," said her father, laughing aloud. "What a practical girl! And how truly her instinct guides her to the wisdom of feeding well the man whom you wish to impress! Do the best you can with the dinner, Robin, and maybe he won't discover defects in the invention." "There is none," retorted Rob, going off with a skip and a jump to impart the news to her mother and Wythie, and consult with them on ways and means. The second day dawned clear and cold and brought with it, on the noon train, the anxiously awaited arbitrator of the fate of the bricquette machine. Mr. Grey went to the station to meet him, and Wythie, Rob, and Prue watched their approach to the little grey house from behind the muslin curtains in their chamber. There was an air of assurance and power about the stranger which filled Wythie with fear of his judgment, and inspired Rob with confidence. "Of course he will approve the machine if he knows what he's about," said Rob, "and he most certainly looks as though he knew." Dinner was served at once, and Mr. Marston--by this name Mr. Grey presented his guest to his wife and daughters--Mr. Marston was enthusiastic in word and deed over his pleasure in what, he said, he never found in the city--old-fashioned, home cooking, prepared by the hands of ladies.