"But you must let me pay you for it. You don't know me, nor I you; you are under no obligation to me. And I would rather pay you for it. You see, it may be your start in life." [Illustration: "YOU MUST LET ME PAY YOU FOR IT."] "It's not worth anything," objected Jud. "I know what it is worth. Fifty dollars is cheap." Before she had finished speaking she was counting the money from her purse. Thrusting five bills into Jud's hand, she snatched up the picture and said: "It's a bargain, isn't it? You can't take back the picture because you have accepted payment." "Good heaven!--I mean, I can't take all of this!" "But you can and shall," she cried delightedly. "It is not enough, I'm sure, but it is all I have with me. Some day, when you are famous, I shall have a valuable picture. Now I must be going. My mother and brother are probably in convulsions. See them? Don't they look angry? Our train had to wait three hours over at the other side of the woods until they could repair the engine. We had a breakdown." "I wish you wouldn't force me to----" Jud began. "Don't object, now!" she cried. "I am the gainer. Save that money to give to your sweetheart on your wedding day. That's a very pretty idea, isn't it? I know she will approve." And here she came to Justine and kissed her. "I know I should like you very much," she said honestly. Justine felt a queer sensation in her throat and her heart went out more than ever to the girl in gray. "Remember, it is to be your wedding present when the sweet day comes." Jud and Justine glanced sheepishly at one another, but before either had found words to tell her they were already married, she was hastening away. "Oh, by the way," she cried, turning back, "what is your name?" "Dudley Sherrod." "It would be well for me to know it when you are famous. Good-bye!" she called cheerfully. Jud hesitated an instant. "Won't you tell me your name?" he cried. Justine clasped his arm in mute astonishment. The receding girl turned, smiled, and held up her card, hastily withdrawn from its case. It fluttered to the grass, and she was gone. CHAPTER VII. LEAVING PARADISE. Jud hurried down the slope and snatched up the piece of cardboard. His eyes sought the name, then the departing enchantress. His heart was full of thankfulness to the stranger, whose gray figure was disappearing among the oaks. "She seems just like the fairy queen in the stories we used to read, Jud," said Justine. Looking over his shoulders, she read aloud: "'Miss Wood.' Oh, dear; it doesn't give her first name. How I wish I knew it!" "And it don't say where she lives," said Jud slowly.