books, dinner lists, and interviews with caterers, decorators, and
florists, Margaret's time was full, but she loved every moment of her
work, and gloried in her increasing usefulness.

At first there were some dark days; notably the dreadful one upon
which Margaret somehow--somewhere--dropped the box containing the new
hat she was bringing home for Harriet, and kept the little girl out in
the cold afternoon air while the motor made a fruitless trip back to
the milliner's. Harriet contracted a cold, and Harriet's mother for
the first time spoke severely to Margaret. There was another bad day
when Margaret artlessly admitted to Mrs. Pierre Polk at the telephone
that Mrs. Carr-Boldt was not engaged for dinner that evening, thus
obliging her employer to snub the lady, or accept a distasteful
invitation to dine. And there was a most uncomfortable occasion when
Mr. Carr-Boldt, not at all at his best, stumbled in upon his wife with
some angry observations meant for her ear alone; and Margaret, busy
with accounts in a window recess, was, unknown to them both, a
distressed witness.

"Another time, Miss Paget," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt, coldly, upon
Margaret's appearing scarlet-cheeked between the curtains, "don't
oblige me to ascertain that you are not within hearing before feeling
sure of privacy. Will you finish those bills upstairs, if you please?"

Margaret went upstairs with a burning heart, cast her bills haphazard
on her own desk, and flung herself, dry-eyed and furious, on the bed.
She was far too angry to think, but lay there for perhaps twenty
minutes with her brain whirling. Finally rising, she brushed up her
hair, straightened her collar, and, full of tremendous resolves,
stepped into her little sitting room, to find Mrs. Carr-Boldt in the