hand, idly plucked a fresh, dewy rose off the tree which grew round
the window.

'If I could only get rid of him,' she thought, toying with the
flower; 'but it is impossible. I can't do that without money, and
money I never will have till I find that lead. I must bribe him, I
suppose. Oh, why can't he leave me alone now? Surely he has ruined
my life sufficiently in the past to let me have a few years, if not
of pleasure, at least of forgetfulness.' And with a petulant gesture
she hurled the rose out of the window, where it struck Archie a soft
and fragrant blow on the cheek.

'Yes,' said Madame to herself, as she pulled down the window, 'I
must get rid of him, and if bribery won't do--there are other
means.'




CHAPTER IV

THE GOOD SAMARITAN


Is there anyone nowadays who reads Cowper--that charming, domestic
poet who wrote 'The Task', and invested even furniture with the
glamour of poesy? Alas! to many people Cowper is merely a name, or
is known only as the author of the delightfully quaint ballad of
John Gilpin. Yet he was undoubtedly the Poet Laureate of
domesticity, and every householder should possess a bust or picture