re to the nineteen different ways to
pronounce it that I hear all around me every day now. As for calling it
my 'car,' or my 'motor car'--I should expect to see a Pullman or one
of those huge black trucks before my door, if I ordered it by either of
those names. Neither will I insult the beautiful thing by calling it a
'machine.' Its name is Pegasus. I shall call it 'Peggy.'"

And "Peggy" she called it. John sniffed his disdain, and Billy's friends
made no secret of their amused tolerance; but, in an astonishingly short
time, half the automobile owners of her acquaintance were calling their
own cars "Peggy"; and even the dignified John himself was heard to order
"some gasoline for Peggy," quite as a matter of course.

When Marie Hawthorn stepped from the train at the North Station she
greeted Billy with affectionate warmth, though at once her blue eyes
swept the space beyond expectantly and eagerly.

Billy's lips curved in a mischievous smile.

"No, he didn't come," she said. "He didn't want to--a little bit."

Marie grew actually pale.

"Didn't _want_ to!" she stammered.

Billy gave her a spasmodic hug.

"Goosey! No, he didn't--a _little_ bit; but he did a great _big_ bit.
As if you didn't know he was dying to come, Marie! But he simply
couldn't--something about his concert Monday night. He told me over the
telephone; but between his joy that you were coming, and his rage that
he couldn't see you the first minute you did come, I couldn't quite make
out what was the trouble. But he's coming to dinner to-night, so he'll
doubtless tell you all about it."

Marie sighed her relief.

"Oh, that's all right then. I was afraid he was sick--when I didn't see
him."

Billy laughed softly.

"No, he isn't sick, Marie; but you needn't go away again before the
wedding--not to leave him on my hands. I wouldn't have believed Cyril
Henshaw, confirmed old bachelor and avowed woman-hater, could have acted
the part of a love-sick boy as he has the last week or two."

The rose-flush on Marie's cheek spread to the roots of her fine yellow
hair.

"Billy, dear, he--he didn't!"

"Marie, dear--he--he did!"

Marie laughed. She did not say anything, but the rose-flush deepened
as she occupied herself very busily in getting her trunk-check from the
little hand bag she carried.

Cyril was not mentioned again until the two girls, veils tied and coats
buttoned, were snugly ensconced in the tonneau, and Peggy's nose was
turned tow