see the man--ugly as a cannibal he may be
and old as the cannibal's great-grandfather--that couldn't be persuaded
he was a lady-killer?

His manner changed altogether. He plumped down on the lounge and
patted the place beside him invitingly, giving me a wink that was
deadly.

"But, Mrs. Dowager!" I exclaimed coquettishly.

"Oh, that's all right, little one! She hasn't even missed me yet.
When she's playing Bridge she forgets even to be jealous."

"Playing Bridge," I murmured sweetly, "'way off in Philadelphia, while
you, you naughty man--"

Oh, he loved that!

"Not so naughty as--as I'd like to be," he bellowed, heavily witty.
"And she isn't 'way off in Philadelphia either. She's just round the
corner at Mrs. Gates', and--what's the matter?"

"Nothing--nothing. Did she recognize me?"

"Oh, that's what scared you, is it? She didn't recognize you. Neither
did I, till I got that second glimpse of you with your hat and jacket
on. But even if she had--ho! ho! ho! I say; do you know, you
couldn't convince the Bishop and Henrietta, if you'd talk till
doomsday, that that red coat and hat we advertised weren't taken by a
little girl that was daffy. Fact; I swear it! They admit you took the
coat, you little witch, but it was when you were out of your mind--of
course--of course! 'The very fact that she left the coat behind her
and took nothing else from the house shows a mind diseased,' insisted
Henrietta. Of course--of course! 'And her coming for no reason at all
to your house,' adds the Bishop.... Say, what was the reason?"

Maggie, I'll tell you a hard thing: it isn't when people think worse of
you than you are, but better, that you feel most uncomfortable. I got
pale and sick inside of me at the thought of my poor little Bishop. I
loved him for believing me straight and--

"I've been dying of curiosity to know what was in your wise little head
that day," he went on. "Oh, it was wise all right; that wink you gave
me was perfectly sane; there was method in that madness of yours."

"I will tell you, Mr. Ramsay," I said sweetly, "at supper."

"Supper!"

"Yes, the supper you're going to get for me."

His bellowing laughter filled the place. Maggie, our little flat and
our few things don't go well with sounds like that.

"Oh, you're all alike, you women!" he roared. "All right, supper it
is. Where shall we go--Rector's?"

I pouted.

"It's so much more cozy right here," I said. "I'll teleph