that was pressed into his hand, she realized
that she had done her old friend a good turn.

"Use it up on your poor people," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt, to his
protestations; and when he had gone, and Dorothy's "girl" appeared,
she tipped that worthy and amazed Teuton, and after promising
Dorothy a big doll from a New York shop, sent the child and maid
home in the motor-car.

"I hope this hasn't upset your plans," Margaret said, as they stood
waiting in the doorway. It was nearly five o'clock, the school was
empty and silent.

"No, not exactly. I had hoped to get home for dinner. But I think
I'll get Woolcock to take me back to Dayton; I've some very dear
friends there who'll give me a cup of tea. Then I'll come back this
way and get home, by ten, I should think, for a late supper." Then,
as the limousine appeared, Mrs. Carr-Boldt took both Margaret's hands
in hers, and said, "And now good-bye, my dear girl. I've got your
address, and I'm going to send you something pretty to remember me
by. You saved me from I don't know what annoyance and publicity. And
don't forget that when you come to New York I'm going to help you
meet the people you want to, and give you a start if I can. You're
far too clever and good-looking to waste your life down here. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" Margaret said, her cheeks brilliant, her head awhirl.

She stood unmindful of the chilly evening air, watching the great
motor-car wheel and slip into the gloom. The rain was over; a dying
wind moaned mysteriously through the dusk. Margaret went slowly
upstairs, pinned on her hat, buttoned her long coat snugly about
her. She locked the schoolroom door, and, turning the corner, plunged
her hands into her pockets, and faced the wind bravely. Deepening
darkness and coldness were about her, but she felt surrounded by
the warmth and brightness of her dreams. She saw the brilliant
streets of a big city, the carriages and motor-cars coming and
going, the idle, lovely women in their sumptuous gowns and hats.
These things were real, near--almost attainable--to-night.

"Mrs. Carr-Boldt!" Margaret said, "the darling! I wonder if I'll
ever see her again!"

CHAPTER II

Life in the shabby, commonplace house that sheltered the Paget family
sometimes really did seem to proceed, as Margaret had suggested, in
a long chain of violent shocks, narrow escapes, and closely averted
catastrophes. No sooner was Duncan's rash pronounced not to be
scarlet fever than Rober