owing, tremulous, instinct
with the joy and passion of giving--for to Kate Kildare's child love
meant always giving--was she to know so soon the blight of
disillusionment?

"Not if I can help it," muttered Philip, squaring his jaws, and set his
horse once more in the direction of Holiday Hill.

He intended to discover just how far and for what reason Percival
Channing was averse to the state of matrimony.

CHAPTER XXIII

Jacqueline had presently another confidante, who came to her by chance;
not Kate, still absorbed in her readjustment to life without Jacques
Benoix, and not Jemima, even more absorbed in the preparation for her
approaching visit. Jacqueline, indeed, was somewhat in disgrace with her
sister. "Isn't it just like her," thought the older girl impatiently,
"to go and make such a success of herself, and then sit back calmly and
expect me to do the rest?"

Jemima had from her mother one gift of the born executive: the ability
to recognize other people's abilities as well as their limitations. In a
quite unenvious and impersonal way, she appreciated the superior charm
of her sister, and intended to use it, backed by her own superior
intelligence, for the benefit of both of them. Jacqueline's complete
lack of interest in the social campaign was a serious blow to her plans,
but she met it with stoic philosophy.

"I shall have to go ahead as best I can without charm," she told
herself, soberly. "Brains always count, if you keep them hid."

To the casual observer the ambitions of young Jemima at this juncture
might have seemed somewhat petty; but most beginnings are petty. There
was in the girl's mind a determination that cannot be called unworthy,
no matter how it manifested itself--nothing less than the reinstatement
before the world of the family her mother had disgraced, the once-proud
Kildares of Storm. She was going forth to do battle alone for the
tarnished honor of her name, a gallant little knight-errant,
tight-lipped and heavy-hearted, and far more afraid than she dared
admit.

Something of this the mother sensed, and her heart yearned over her
daughter. But Jemima rebuffed all overtures. She declined sympathy, and
as far as possible she declined help from her mother. She had offered to
return the check-book Kate gave her when she expected to go to New York,
but her mother bade her keep it, saying, "It is time you learned how to
handle your own money."

So Jemima did her planning and o