hair, came running to join her.

Rebecca was now sixteen, and of all the handsome Pagets the best to
look upon. She was dressed according to her youthful lights; every
separate article of her apparel to-day, from her rowdyish little hat
to her openwork hose, represented a battle with Mrs. Paget's
preconceived ideas as to propriety in dress, with the honors largely
for Rebecca. Rebecca had grown up, in eight months, her sister
thought, confusedly; she was no longer the adorable, un-self-conscious
tomboy who fought and skated and toboganned with the boys.

"Hello, darling dear!" said Rebecca. "Too bad no one met you! We all
thought you were coming on the six. Crazy about your suit! Here's
Maudie Pratt. You know Maudie, don't you, Mark?"

Margaret knew Maudie. Rebecca's infatuation for plain, heavy-featured,
complacent Miss Pratt was a standing mystery in the Paget family.
Margaret smiled, bowed.

"I think we stumbled upon a pretty little secret of yours to-day, Miss
Margaret," said Maudie, with her best company manner, as they walked
along. Margaret raised her eyebrows. "Rebel and I," Maudie went on,-
Rebecca was at the age that seeks a piquant substitute for an
unpoetical family name,--"Rebel and I are wondering if we may ask you
who Mr. John Tenison is?"

John Tenison! Margaret's heart stood still with a shock almost
sickening, then beat furiously. What--how--who on earth had told
them anything of John Tenison? Coloring high, she looked sharply
at Rebecca.