hair."

"It's a lovely thing. But--Porter--it mustn't bind me to anything. I
want to be free."

"You are free. Do you remember when you were a kiddie that I gave you
a penny ring out of my popcorn bag? You didn't think that ring tied
you to anything, did you? Well, this is just another penny prize
package."

So she wore it on her right hand and when he said "Good-night," he
lifted the hand and kissed it.

"Girl, dear, may this be the merriest Christmas ever!"

And now the tears overflowed. They were alone in the lower hall and
there was no one to see. "Oh, Porter," she wailed, "I'm missing
Constance dreadfully--it isn't Christmas--without her. It came over me
all at once--when I was trying to think that I was happy."

"Poor little Contrary Mary--if you'd only let me take care of you."

She shook her head. "I didn't mean to be--silly, Porter."

"You're not silly." Then after a silence, "Shall you go to early
service in the morning?"

"Yes."

"May I go?"

"Of course. Barry's going, too."

"You mean that you won't let me go with you alone."

"I mean nothing of the kind. Barry always goes. He used to do it to
please mother, and now he does it--for remembrance."

"I'm so jealous of my moments alone with you. Why can't Leila stay
with you to-night, then there will be four of us, and I can have you to
myself. I can bring the car, if you'd rather."

"No, I like to walk. It's so lovely and solemn."

"Be sure to ask Leila."

She promised, and he went away, having to look in at a dance given by
one of his mother's friends; and Mary, returning to join the others,
pondered, a little wistfully, on the fact that Porter Bigelow should be
so eager for a privilege which Roger Poole had just declined.

CHAPTER VII

_In Which Aunt Frances Speaks of Matrimony as a Fixed Institution and
is Met by Flaming Arguments; and in Which a Strange Voice Sings Upon
the Stairs._

Aunt Frances stayed until after the New Year. But before she went she
sounded Aunt Isabelle.

"Has Mary said anything to you about Porter Bigelow?"

"About Porter?"

"Yes," impatiently, "about marrying him. Anybody can see that he's
dead in love with her, Isabelle."

"I don't think Mary wants to marry anybody. She's an independent
little creature. She should have been the boy, Frances."

"I wish to heaven she had," Aunt Frances' tone was fervent. "I can't
see any future for Barry, unless he marries Leila. If he wer