"This is just what I needed--oh, thank you so much," she exclaimed, when
she had looked at them.

"That was what I thought," said the dressmaker; "so now we must set to
work and get a good day."

And Nancy did work well that day, never looking up from her work, except
once to glance across to the Post-office at the time she knew Benny Dodd
usually came out to go to the church. She could not see Fred, so it was
some pleasure to her to look at the small boy who blew the organ for
him.

But Benny did not perform that office for the young musician on this
day, for Fred Hurst had gone to London that morning, summoned thither by
a letter from Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, music publishers. The marked
success of "Winged Love" had disposed these gentlemen to make the young
composer a good offer for his next song. The more immediate cause of
their determination was the fact that Señor Florès had chosen to sing
"Winged Love" at the last Saturday afternoon concert at St. James'
Hall, and its reception had been such as to establish a certain sale for
songs from the same hand. "Who is this Fred Hurst?" people in London
were asking.

Miss Sabina, in her showy drawing-room up at the Manor Farm, thought
over the event all day in her own critical way, and predicted evil as
the result. There was an old Broadwood grand piano in the room where she
sat, covered with a pile of old music--Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Haydn,
and all the composers whose music Miss Sabina disliked. This music had
belonged to Fred's mother, a fair and unfortunate creature, whose own