th--and a rose-colored fan--and pearls. You should see
her pearls, Miss MacVeigh. Tell her about them, Truxton."

"Well, once upon a time they belonged to a queen. Becky's
great-grandfather on the Meredith side was a diplomat in Paris, and he
bought them, or so the story runs. Becky only wears a part of them.
The rest are in the family vaults."

Madge listened, and showed no surprise. But that account of lace and
silver, and priceless pearls did not sound in the least like the new
little girl about whom George had, in the few times that she had seen
him of late, been so silent.

"If only Flora would get well, and let me leave this beastly hole," had
been the burden of his complaint.

"I thought you liked it."

"It is well enough for a time."

"What about the new little girl?"

He was plainly embarrassed, but bluffed it out. "I wish you wouldn't
ask questions."

"I wish you wouldn't be--rude--Georgie-Porgie."

"I hate that name, Madge. Any man has a right to be rude when a woman
calls him 'Georgie-Porgie.'"

"So that's it? Well, now run along. And please don't come again until
you are nice--and smiling."

"Oh, look here, Madge."

"Run along----"

"But there isn't any place to run."

Laughter lurked in her eyes. "Oh, Georgie-Porgie--for once in your
life can't you run away?"

"Do you think you are funny?"

"Perhaps not. Smile a little, Georgie."

"How can anybody smile, with everybody sick?"

"Oh, no, we're not. We are better. I am so glad that Flora is
improving."

"Oscar thinks it is because that little old man prayed for her. Fancy
Oscar----"

Madge meditated. "Yet it might be, you know, George. There are things
in that old man's petition that transcend all our philosophy."

"Oh, you're as bad as Oscar," 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