car," said George. He rose and stood frowning on
the threshold. "Well, good-bye, Madge."

"Good-bye, Georgie, and smile when you come again."

She had guessed then that something had gone wrong in the game with the
new little girl. She had a consuming curiosity to know the details. But
she could never force things with Georgie. Some day, perhaps, he would
tell her.

And now here was news indeed! She waited until young Beaufort and his
wife had driven away, and until Mrs. Flippin had time for that quiet
hour by her bedside.

"Mary looked lovely," said Madge.

"Didn't she?" Mrs. Flippin rocked and talked. "You would never have
known that dress was made for anybody but for Mary. Becky gave Mary
another dress out of a lot she had down from New York. It is yellow
organdie, made by hand and with little embroidered scallops."

Madge knew the house which made a specialty of those organdie gowns with
embroidered scallops, and she knew the price.

"But how does--Becky manage to have such lovely things?"

"Oh, she's rich," Mrs. Flippin was rocking comfortably. "You would never
know it, and nobody thinks of it much. But she's got money. From her
grandmother. And there was something in the will about having her live
out of the world as long as she could. That's why they sent her to a
convent and kept her down here as much as possible. She ain't ever
seemed to care for clothes. She could always have had anything she
wanted, but she ain't cared. She told Mary that she had a sudden notion
to have some pretty things, and she sent for them, and it was lucky for
Mary that she did. She couldn't have gone to this ball, for there wasn't
any time to get anything made. Mr. Flippin and I are going to buy her
some nice things when she goes to Richmond. But they won't be like the
things that Becky gets, of course."

Madge, listening to further details of the Meredith fortunes, wondered
how much of this Georgie knew. "Becky's mother died when she was five,
and her father two years later," Mrs. Flippin was saying. "She might
have been spoiled to death if she had been brought up as some children
are. But she has spent her winters at the convent with Sister Loretto,
and she's never worn much of anything but the uniform of the school. You
wouldn't think that she had any money to see her, would you, Miss
MacVeigh?"

"No, you wouldn't," said Madge, truthfully.

It was after nine o'clock--a warm night--with no sound but the ticking
of the c