gnition with
it to any American abroad. Marcia had been taken to Mrs. Devereaux's
luxurious house for the day, put to bed, comforted, telegrams and
messages sent hither and thither to her friends; truly it was the kind
of a thing one does not forget, that must claim gratitude forever.

She went on now: "I can't get over our meeting in the street here in
this place, just the day we both came--the strangest coincidence! I
could hardly believe my eyes. And then to drive back to her rooms with
her and find myself telling her all I've been doing, just as if I had
known her always--I'm sure, though, I feel as if I had. I do want to do
something for her so much--it doesn't make any real difference, her
being so rich and grand. And then I thought of our Thanksgiving dinner,
and she seemed so pleased, and accepted at once. Of course she
stipulated that we were to promise not to make any difference on her
account, but I do want to have everything as pretty and characteristic
as possible. And you needn't bother a bit about anything, Kitty. I'll do
all the work, and there's a whole week to get ready in. We'll have Frank
bring your wedding silver from the bank; you had so many lovely large
pieces."

"I had ten cut glass and silver loving cups," annotated Kitty, in the
tone of injury the recollection always produced in the light of her
present needs. "It will take you hours and days to clean all those
things, Marcia; that's why I never use them. When you have three babies
all the same age--"

"Kersley will help me," said Marcia, deftly introducing another subject.

"Kersley!" There was deep surprise in Kitty's voice; she turned to fix
her eyes on her sister. Marcia flushed independently of her will.

"Yes--didn't I tell you? He's coming out to his brother's over
Thanksgiving."

"Oh!" said Kitty, with significance; she made a precipitate lunge for
the rubber dog. There was an alert tone in her voice when she spoke
again:

"Marcia."

"Well?"

"How long is this thing to go on? Are you engaged to Kersley Battersby,
or are you not? For if you're not, I don't think it's decent to keep him
dangling on in this way any longer."

"Oh, Kitty, do stop!" Marcia ceased her investigations to relapse into a
jumbled heap on the rug, her chin resting on her hand, her dark,
vivacious little face tense. "I suppose I _do_ consider that I'm
engaged, if you _will_ have me say it; he's the only man I could ever
care for, but I'm not going to l