worn house-coat. They went out together. The young people sat almost
without speaking, listening to the indistinguishable murmur from the
adjoining room, and smiling mysteriously at each other. Then Margaret
was called, and went as far as the dining-room door, and came back to
put her napkin uncertainly down at her place, hesitated, arranged her
gown carefully, and finally went out again. They heard her voice with
the others in the parlor... questioning... laughing.

Presently the low murmur broke into audible farewells; chairs were
pushed back, feet scraped in the hall.

"Good-night, then!" said Mrs. Carr-Boldt's clear tones, "and so sorry
to have--Good-night, Mr. Paget!--Oh, thank you--but I'm well wrapped.
Thank you! Good-night, dear! I'll see you again soon--I'll write."

And then came the honking of the motor-car, and a great swish where
it grazed a wet bush near the house. Somebody lowered the gas in the
hall, and Mrs. Paget's voice said regretfully, "I wish we had had a
fire in the parlor--just one of the times!--but there's no help for
it." They all came in, Margaret flushed, starry-eyed; her father and
mother a little serious. The three blinked at the brighter light, and
fell upon the cooling chops as if eating were the important business
of the moment.

"We waited the pudding," said Julie. "What is it?"

"Why--" Mrs. Paget began, hesitatingly. Mr. Paget briskly took the
matter out of her hands.

"This lady," he said, with an air of making any further talk