evening and report on Thursday. Well, will you give me the pleasure?"

He rose then, and bending over, kissed her.

"I'd like you to meet my friends----"

"Well--for a moment."

Mrs. Trenham and Edith came in.

"Just say a quiet good-bye to Claire," Edith whispered. "She is
curiously upset about something."

The slim arms clung to Lilian.

"Oh, will they let you come again? Edith said it would all be different
and your new mother would want you, and--and--" the child ended with a
sob.

"Of course I shall come again, and again, little sweetheart," kissing
her.

"Oh, what a pretty name! I love you."

"And you will soon see me again."

Willard stood with his hat in his hand in a waiting attitude, tall and
manly, the fine face marked by a certain pride of birth, of culture, and
the inherited grace of generations. The deep, outlooking eyes spoke of
strength of character with a vein of tenderness, and the smiling mouth
of affability. Yet it struck her that he did not seem to belong to the
plain little parlor and it almost appeared as if he dwarfed the two
women, a feeling she could not help resenting inwardly.

They made their adieus in a friendly manner. Yes, the bright day had
settled to the threatening of storm. The air was heavy and murky and cut
with the promise of coming sleet. Willard drew the girl's hand through
his arm and they caught step.

"I am glad you are going to be tall," he said. "You have all the
indications, the figure and the air. It runs in mother's line as well as
that of the Crawfords."

"I am taller than--than your sister," rather hesitatingly.

"Than _your_ sister, as well. Oh, Marguerite, I hope you two will come
to love each other dearly. Then there will be Vincent. We two boys have
been such chums."

"It is strange to have a new name," she said slowly, yet it was more to
her fancy.

"Do you like the old one better?" as if in a little doubt.

"I didn't like it very much, and I remember when I rebelled against
Lily. It seemed such a sing-song king of a name. It's sweet and pretty,
too, Lilian Boyd gave it more character."

"You were named for Mother, but father did not want them quite alike.
Her name was Margaret, and father used to say to her--

'Oh, fair Margaret,
Oh, rare Margaret,
Where got you the name of strength and beauty?'"

Would she be dearer to her father on account of her name?

"And Zaidee?" she said, in a suggestive tone.

"Oh, I believe i