dge, radiant to-night
in the love of her husband, as she had perhaps once been radiant for
Dalton.

_Georgie-Porgie!_

It was a horrid name. "_There were always so many girls to be
kissed--and it was so easy to run away_----"

She had always hated the nursery rhyme. But now it seemed to sing itself
in her brain.

_"Georgie-Porgie,
Pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls,
And made them cry----"_

Cope was at Becky's right. "Aren't you going to talk to me? You haven't
said a word since the soup."

"Well, everybody else is talking."

"What do I care for anybody else?"

Becky wondered how Archibald did it. How he kept that light manner for a
world which he was not long to know. And there was Louise with rouge
and powder on her cheeks to cover her tears---- That was courage---- She
thought suddenly of "The Trumpeter Swan."

She spoke out of her thoughts. "Randy has sold his story."

He wanted to know all about it, and she repeated what Madge had said.
Yet even as she talked that hateful rhyme persisted,

_"When the girls
Came out to play,
Georgie-Porgie
Ran away----"_

After dinner they went into the drawing-room so that Louise could play
for them. A great mirror which hung at the end of the room reflected
Louise on the piano bench in her baby frock. It reflected Madge, slim
and gold, with a huge fan of lilac feathers. It reflected Becky--in a
rose-colored damask chair, it reflected the three men in black. Years
ago there had been other men and women--the Admiral's wife in red velvet
and the same pearls that were now on Becky's neck---- She shuddered.

As they drove home that night, the Major spoke to his wife of Becky.
"The child looks unhappy."

"She will be unhappy until some day her heart rests in her husband, as
mine does in you. Shall I spoil you, Mark, if I talk like this?"

When they reached their hotel there were letters. One was from Flora:
"You asked about George. He is not with us. He has gone to Nantucket to
visit some friends of his--the Merediths. He will be back next week."

"The Merediths?" Madge said. "George doesn't know any--Merediths.
Mark--he is following Becky."

"Well, she's safe in Boston."

"She is going back. On Wednesday. And he'll be there." Her eyes were
troubled.

"Mark," she said, abruptly, "I wonder if Randy has left New York. Call
him up, please, long distance. I want to talk to him."

"My darling girl, do you know what time it is?"