"I certainly shall not try to prevent her," answered her husband, rather shortly. "If you had acted fairly by her and divided the money I gave you for the three girls she need not have been driven to such straits as to sell her pretty fan. Why, I gave you a hundred dollars, and she only wants five for her dress. You might have spared her that small pittance!"
"I did not think she would be contented with such a shabby dress," muttered Mrs. Lyle.
"Queenie only wants to enjoy herself," said the fond father. "She will be as beautiful and as happy in her five-dollar tarleton as Georgie and Sydney in their elegant silks."
[CHAPTER II.]
Full of her suddenly conceived purpose, Queenie Lyle went to her room, attired herself in a neat walking-suit, and tied a blue tissue veil over her luxuriant golden ringlets.
Then carefully wrapping a paper about the box that held her painted fan, she set forth upon her errand, feeling sorry that she must part with the elegant trifle, yet determined to sacrifice it rather than forego the ball, which to her young, imaginative fancy appeared like a promised peep into fairy-land.
In the large city where she lived there were plenty of stores that dealt in fancy articles.
She entered one of these stores, and presented her fan for the merchant's inspection.
"How much will you give me for it?" asked she, childishly, coming straight to the point.