to tell you."

"Yes?" said she, coldly.

He drew near to her. "Surely," he breathed, "you must know what I have
long wanted to tell you--"

"Yes, I should think I _did!_" said Margaret, "and if you dare tell
me a word of it I'll never speak to you again. It's getting a little
monotonous. Good-night, Mr. Van Orden."

Half way up the stairs she paused and ran lightly back.

"Oh, Hugh, Hugh!" she said, contritely, "I was unpardonably rude. I'm
sorry, dear, but it's quite impossible. You are a dear, cute little
boy, and I love you--but not that way. So let's shake hands, Hugh, and
be friends! And then you can go and play with Adele." He raised her
hand to his lips. He really was a nice boy.

"But, oh, dear!" said Margaret, when he had gone; "what horrid
creatures men are, and what a temper I'm in, and what a vexatious
place the world is! I wish I were a pauper! I wish I had never been
born! And I wish--and I wish I had those League papers fixed! I'll
do it to-night! I'm sure I need something tranquillising, like
assessments and decimal places and unpaid dues, to keep me from
_screaming_. I hate them all--all three of them--as badly as I do
_him!_"

Thereupon she blushed, for no apparent reason, and went to her own
rooms in a frame of mind that was inexcusable, but very becoming. Her
cheeks burned, her eyes flashed with a brighter glow that was gem-like
and a little cruel, and her chin tilted up defiantly. Margaret had a
resolute chin, a masculine chin. I fancy that it was only at the last
moment that Nature found it a thought too boyish and modified it with
a dimple--a very creditable dimple, by the way, that she must have
been really proud of. That ridiculous little dint saved it, feminised
it.

Altogether, then, she swept down upon the papers of the Ladies' League
for the Edification of the Impecunious with very much the look of a
diminutive Valkyrie--a Valkyrie of unusual personal attractions, you
understand--_en route_ for the battle-field and a little, a very
little eager and expectant of the strife.

Subsequently, "Oh, dear, _dear!_" said she, amid a feverish rustling
of papers; "the whole world is out of sorts to-night! I never _did_
know how much seven times eight is, and I hate everybody, and I've
left that list of unpaid dues in Uncle Fred's room, and I've got to go
after it, and I don't want to! Bother those little suitors of mine!"

Miss Hugonin rose, and went out from her own rooms, carrying a bun