"Lud love us all!" said a buxom wench, who was clinging to the arm
of a nervous-looking youth, "I believe they're coming for more
money."

On the elevated platform at the further end of the tent, a slim figure
had just made its appearance, that of a young woman dressed in
peculiarly sombre colours, and with a black lace hood thrown lightly
over her head.

Marguerite thought that the face seemed familiar to her, and she also
noticed that the woman carried a large embroidered reticule in her
bemittened hand.

There was a general exodus the moment she appeared. The
Richmond yokels did not like the look of that reticule. They felt that
sufficient demand had already been made upon their scant purses,
considering the meagerness of the entertainment, and they dreaded
being lured to further extravagance.

When Marguerite turned away from the mechanical toy, the last of
the little crowd had disappeared, and she was alone in the booth with
the woman in the dark kirtle and black lace hood.

"For the poor of Paris, Madame," said the latter mechanically,
holding out her reticule.

Marguerite was looking at her intently. The face certainly seemed
familiar, recalling to her mind the far-off days in Paris, before she
married. Some young actress no doubt driven out of France by that
terrible turmoil which had caused so much sorrow and so much