ft folds, "Never mind, I'll keep it always, just to look
at. It was awfully dear in Aunt Louise to send it to me and I wouldn't
let her know for worlds that it doesn't fit me." And now, after all she
had said, she had lightly given it away--and to Constance Stevens.

Mary forced herself to smile and reply to the friendly greeting of Miss
Allison, who stood in the big, old-fashioned hall helping to receive her
niece's guests. A moment more and she was surrounded by Geraldine Macy,
Irma Linton and Susan Atwell, who had come forth in a body from the
long, palm-decorated parlor off the hall to welcome her, accompanied by
a singularly handsome youth, a very tall, merry-faced young man and a
black-haired, blue-eyed lad, with clean cut, sensitive features.

She was presented in turn to Harold Macy, Sherman Norwood, known as the
Crane to his intimate associates, and Lawrence Armitage.

"So, _you_ are Marjorie's friend, Mary Raymond, of whom she has spoken
to me so often," smiled Hal Macy. "We are very glad to welcome you to
Sanford, Miss Raymond."

"Thank you," Mary returned, almost forgetting her first bitter moment.
Hal Macy's direct hand-clasp and frank, bright smile of welcome stamped
him with sincerity and truth. She liked equally well Lawrence
Armitage's deferential greeting and she found the Crane's wide, boyish
grin irresistible as he bowed low over her small hand. Yes, the Sanford
boys were certainly nice. She was not so sure that she liked the girls.
They made too much of Marjorie, and Marjorie had proved herself disloyal
to her sworn comrade and playmate of years.

Once inside the drawing-room, which had been transformed into an
impromptu ball-room by taking up the rugs and moving the piano to one
end of it, introductions followed in rapid succession.

"Mary, you must meet my foster father." Constance slipped her arm
through Mary's and conducted her to the piano where stood a man with an
immense shock of snow-white hair, sorting high piles of music arranged
on top. "Father."

The man at the piano wheeled at the sound of the soft voice. His stern,
almost sad face broke into a radiant smile that completely transformed
it.

"This is Mary Raymond. Mary, my father, Mr. Stevens," introduced
Constance. "And this is my uncle, Mr. Roland."

Both men bowed and took Mary's hand in turn, expressing their pleasure
at meeting her. Old John Roland's faded blue eyes contained a puzzled
look. "You are very familiar," he sai