s
dances, too, if you haven't stopped it in him."

She stopped for a minute to take breath, and Marjorie clapped her hands.

"I love to dance! Do have them up! Never mind whether Francis likes
it or not!"

"Sure you have to mind what your own wedded husband likes," said the
Irish girl, shocked a little. "But unless he's been more sobered
than's likely by the big war, he'll be as crazy over it all as we are.
There's a dozen grand dance records on the phonograph, and sure a bit
of rosin on the floor and it'll be as fine as silk. Let's try them
now."

She made for the phonograph and had a dance-record on it before
Marjorie could answer, and in another minute had picked the smaller
girl up and was dancing over the rough floor with her. And so Francis,
coming in a little apprehensively, found them flushed and laughing, and
whirling wildly around to the music of a record played much too fast.
Peggy, in an effort to show off heavily before Francis, came a cropper
over a stool at his feet, pulling Marjorie down in her fall; both of
them laughing like children as they fell, so that they could scarcely
disentangle themselves, and had to be unknotted by Francis.

"Come on to breakfast now, you young wild animals," said he, his thin,
dark face sparkling all over with laughter as Marjorie had never seen
it.

"I'm killed entirely," said Peggy. "I have to be taken."

She made herself as limp and heavy as possible, and it ended in a
free-for-all scuffle which was finally shepherded into the dining-room
by Mrs. O'Mara, who was laughing so herself that she had to stop and
catch her breath.

So there was little time to think of one's sad lot at breakfast,
either. And Peggy was so keen on the dance proposition that it took
all breakfast time to discuss it.

"I'm taking the motor-cycle over to the clearing, and I don't think
I'll be back till night," said Francis unexpectedly when breakfast was
over.

Peggy made a loud outcry.

"Is this your idea of a honeymoon? Well, when my time comes may I have
a kinder man than you! And poor Marjorie sitting home darning your
socks, I suppose!"

"No. Not at all. I have to go over first to take some things. When I
come back I'll take her, too, if she'd like to go. Think you'd enjoy
it, Marjorie?"

"What is it?" she asked cautiously, not particularly willing to
implicate herself.

"Well, it's a little cabin--or two little cabins, rather, and a
lean-to--several miles away.