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 money." And his face broke into a happy smile.

"It would keep you in Paris if you went there to study. When I was a student in Paris there were plenty of young men who got along on very much less."

Edward was pretty nearly dazed with happiness.

"Whenever you come to town," said Mr. Townley, "I hope you'll look me up. Anything that I can do to help you, I'll do gladly. Before you go abroad we had better have a long talk. I know the ropes pretty well, and I can give you some useful letters. And now I wish you'd do me a favor. This little head—is it Mary?" Edward nodded. "I wish you would write your name on it and make me a present of it. It is so full of feeling and the color is so sweet and cool. I'd like to have it." In one corner of the picture Edward wrote his name. "Thank you. I'll treasure that. I believe in my heart that some day these early sketches of yours will sell for large sums of money."

Those particular ones never did so far as anybody knows. Edward went home in such a daze that he left the drawings in the elevated train, and what became of them thereafter is sheer guesswork, To Edward the loss meant absolutely nothing. He had a check for eighty dollars in his pocket, and the future looked to him as if it were entirely composed of roses.