Mother: A Story Read online

  CHAPTER III

  On the days that followed, the miracle came to be accepted by allWeston, which was much excited for a day or two over this honor done afavorite daughter, and by all the Pagets,--except Margaret. Margaretwent through the hours in her old, quiet manner, a little more tenderand gentle perhaps than she had been; but her heart never beatnormally, and she lay awake late at night, and early in the morning,thinking, thinking, thinking. She tried to realize that it was in herhonor that a farewell tea was planned at the club, it was for her thather fellow-teachers were planning a good-bye luncheon; it was reallyshe--Margaret Paget--whose voice said at the telephone a dozen times aday, "On the fourteenth.--Oh, do I? I don't feel calm! Can't you tryto come in--I do want to see you before I go!" She dutifully repeatedBruce's careful directions; she was to give her check to anexpressman, and her suitcase to a red-cap; the expressman wouldprobably charge fifty cents, the red-cap was to have no more thanfifteen. And she was to tell the latter to put her into a taxicab.

  "I'll remember," Margaret assured him gratefully, but with a sense ofunreality pressing almost painfully upon her.--One of a millionordinary school teachers, in a million little towns--and this marvelhad befallen her!

  The night of the Pagets' Christmas play came, a night full of laughterand triumph; and marked for Margaret by the little parting gifts thatwere slipped into her hands, and by the warm good wishes that weremurmured, not always steadily, by this old friend and that. When thetime came to distribute plates and paper napkins, and great saucers ofice cream and sliced cake, Margaret was toasted in cold sweetlemonade; and drawing close together to "harmonize" more perfectly,the circle about her touched their glasses while they sang, "For she'sa jolly good fellow." Later, when the little supper was almost over,Ethel Elliot, leaning over to lay her hand on Margaret's, began in herrich contralto:--

  "When other lips and other hearts..."

  and as they all went seriously through the two verses, they stood up,one by one, and linked arms; the little circle, affectionate andadmiring, that had bounded Margaret's friendships until now.

  Then Christmas came, with a dark, freezing walk to the pine-spiced andcandle-lighted early service in the little church, and a quicker walkhome, chilled and happy and hungry, to a riotous Christmas breakfast,and a littered breakfast table. The new year came, with a dance andrevel, and the Pagets took one of their long tramps through the snowyafternoon, and came back hungry for a big dinner. Then there wasdressmaking,--Mrs. Schmidt in command, Mrs. Paget tireless at themachine, Julie all eager interest. Margaret, patiently standing to befitted, conscious of the icy, wet touch of Mrs. Schmidt's red fingerson her bare arms, dreamily acquiescent as to buttons or hooks, wastotally absent in spirit.

  A trunk came, Mr. Paget very anxious that the keys should not be"fooled with" by the children. Margaret's mother packed this trunkscientifically. "No, now the shoes, Mark--now that heavy skirt," shewould say. "Run get mother some more tissue paper, Beck. You'll haveto leave the big cape, dear, and you can send for it if you need it.Now the blue dress, Ju. I think that dyed so prettily, just the thingfor mornings. And here's your prayer book in the tray, dear; if you goSaturday you'll want it the first thing in the morning. See, I'll puta fresh handkerchief in it--"

  Margaret, relaxed and idle, in a rocker, with Duncan in her lap busilyworking at her locket, would say over and over:--

  "You're all such angels,--I'll never forget it!" and wish that,knowing how sincerely she meant it, she could feel it a little more.Conversation languished in these days; mother and daughters feelingthat time was too precious to waste speech of little things, and thattheir hearts were too full to touch upon the great change impending.

  A night came when the Pagets went early upstairs, saying that, afterall, it was not like people marrying and going to Russia; it was notlike a real parting; it wasn't as if Mark couldn't come home again infour hours if anything went wrong at either end of the line.Margaret's heart was beating high and quick now; she tried to showsome of the love and sorrow she knew she should have felt, she knewthat she did feel under the hurry of her blood that made speechimpossible. She went to her mother's door, slender and girlish in herwhite nightgown, to kiss her good-night again. Mrs. Paget's big armswent about her daughter. Margaret laid her head childishly on hermother's shoulder. Nothing of significance was said. Margaretwhispered, "Mother, I love you!" Her mother said, "You were such alittle thing, Mark, when I kissed you one day, without hugging you,and you said, 'Please don't love me just with your face, Mother, loveme with your heart!'" Then she added, "Did you and Julie get thatextra blanket down to-day, dear?--it's going to be very cold."Margaret nodded. "Good-night, little girl--" "Goodnight, Mother--"

  That was the real farewell, for the next morning was all confusion.They dressed hurriedly, by chilly gas-light; clocks were compared,Rebecca's back buttoned; Duncan's overcoat jerked on; coffee drunkscalding hot as they stood about the kitchen table; bread barelytasted. They walked to the railway station on wet sidewalks, under abroken sky, Bruce, with Margaret's suit-case, in the lead. Weston wasasleep in the gray morning, after the storm. Far and near belatedcocks were crowing.

  A score of old friends met Margaret at the train; there were gifts,promises, good wishes. There came a moment when it was generally feltthat the Pagets should be left alone, now--the far whistle of thetrain beyond the bridge--the beginning of good-byes--a sudden fillingof the mother's eyes that was belied by her smile.--"Good-bye,sweetest--don't knock my hat off, baby dear! Beck, darling--Oh, Ju,do! don't just say it--start me a letter to-night! ALL write to me!Good-bye, Dad, darling,--all right, Bruce, I'll get right in!--anotherfor Dad. Good-bye, Mother darling,--goodbye! Good-bye!"

  Then for the Pagets there was a walk back to the empty disorder of thehouse: Julie very talkative, at her father's side; Bruce walking farbehind the others with his mother,--and the day's familiar routine tobe somehow gone through without Margaret.

  But for Margaret, settling herself comfortably in the grateful warmthof the train, and watching the uncertain early sunshine brightenunfamiliar fields and farmhouses, every brilliant possibility in lifeseemed to be waiting. She tried to read, to think, to pray, to staresteadily out of the window; she could do nothing for more than amoment at a time. Her thoughts went backward and forward like aweaving shuttle: "How good they've all been to me! How grateful I am!Now if only, only, I can make good!"

  "Look out for the servants!" Julie, from the depth of her sixteenyears-old wisdom had warned her sister. "The governess will hate youbecause she'll be afraid you'll cut her out, and Mrs. Carr-Boldt'smaid will be a cat! They always are, in books."

  Margaret had laughed at this advice, but in her heart she ratherbelieved it. Her new work seemed so enchanting to her that it was noteasy to believe that she did not stand in somebody's light. She wasglad that by a last-moment arrangement she was to arrive at the GrandCentral Station at almost the same moment as Mrs. Carr-Boldt herself,who was coming home from a three-weeks' visit in the middle west.Margaret gave only half her attention to the flying country that wasbeginning to shape itself into streets and rows of houses; all thelast half hour of the trip was clouded by the nervous fear that shewould somehow fail to find Mrs. Carr-Boldt in the confusion at therailroad terminal.

  But happily enough the lady was found without trouble, or ratherMargaret was found, felt an authoritative tap on her shoulder, caughta breath of fresh violets, and a glimpse of her patron's clearskinned, resolute face. They whirled through wet deserted streets;Mrs. Carr-Boldt gracious and talkative, Margaret nervously interestedand amused.

  Their wheels presently grated against a curb, a man in livery openedthe limousine door. Margaret saw an immense stone mansion facing thepark, climbed a dazzling flight of wide steps, and was in a great hallthat faced an interior court, where there were Florentine marblebenches, and the great lifted leaves of palms. She was a little dazedby crowded impressions; impressions of height and spaciousness andrichness, and opening vistas; a great marble
stairway, and a landingwhere there was an immense designed window in clear leaded glass;rugs, tapestries, mirrors, polished wood and great chairs withbrocaded seats and carved dark backs. Two little girls, heavy, wellgroomed little girls,--one spectacled and good-natured looking, theother rather pretty, with a mass of fair hair,--were coming down thestairs with an eager little German woman. They kissed their mother,much diverted by the mad rushes and leaps of the two white poodles whoaccompanied them.

  "These are my babies, Miss Paget," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt. "Thisis Victoria, who's eleven, and Harriet, who's six. And these areMonsieur--"

  "Monsieur Patou and Monsieur Mouche," said Victoria, introducingthe dogs with entire ease of manner. The German woman saidsomething forcibly, and Margaret understood the child's replyin that tongue: "Mamma won't blame you, Fraulein; Harriet andI wished them to come down!"

  Presently they all went up in a luxuriously fitted little lift,Margaret being carried to the fourth floor to her own rooms, to whicha little maid escorted her.

  When the maid had gone Margaret walked to the door and tried it, forno reason whatever; it was shut. Her heart was beating violently. Shewalked into the middle of the room and looked at herself in themirror, and laughed a little breathless laugh. Then she took off herhat carefully and went into the bedroom that was beyond her sittingroom, and hung her hat in a fragrant white closet that was entirelyand delightfully empty, and put her coat on a hanger, and her glovesand bag in the empty big top drawer of a great mahogany bureau. Thenshe went back to the mirror and looked hard at her own beautyreflected in it; and laughed her little laugh again.

  "It's too good--it's too much!" she whispered.

  She investigated her domain, after quelling a wild desire to sit downat the beautiful desk and try the new pens, the crystal ink-well, andthe heavy paper, with its severely engraved address, in a long letterto Mother.

  There was a tiny upright piano in the sitting-room, and at thefireplace a deep thick rug, and an immense leather arm-chair. A clockin crystal and gold flanked by two crystal candlesticks had the centreof the mantelpiece. On the little round mahogany centre table was alamp with a wonderful mosaic shade; a little book-case was filled withbooks and magazines. Margaret went to one of the three windows, andlooked down upon the bare trees and the snow in the park, and upon therumbling green omnibuses, all bathed in bright chilly sunlight.

  A mahogany door with a crystal knob opened into the bedroom, wherethere was a polished floor, and more rugs, and a gay rosy wall paper,and a great bed with a lace cover. Beyond was a bathroom, all enamel,marble, glass, and nickel-plate, with heavy monogrammed towels on therack, three new little wash-cloths sealed in glazed paper, three newtooth-brushes in paper cases, and a cake of famous English soap justout of its wrapper.

  Over the whole little suite there brooded an exquisite order. Not aparticle of dust broke the shining surfaces of the mahogany, not afallen leaf lay under the great bowl of roses on the desk. Now andthen the radiator clanked in the stress; it was hard to believe inthat warmth and silence that a cold winter wind was blowing outside,and that snow still lay on the ground.

  Margaret, resting luxuriously in the big chair, became thoughtful;presently she went into the bedroom, and knelt down beside the bed.

  "O Lord, let me stay here," she prayed, her face in her hands. "I wantso to stay--make me a success!"

  Never was a prayer more generously answered. Miss Paget was an instantsuccess. In something less than two months she became indispensable toMrs. Carr-Boldt, and was a favorite with every one, from the ratherstolid, silent head of the house down to the least of the maids. Shewas so busy, so unaffected, so sympathetic, that her sudden rise infavor was resented by no one. The butler told her his troubles, theFrench maid darkly declared that but for Miss Paget she would not forone second r-r-remain! The children went cheerfully even to thedentist with their adored Miss Peggy; they soon preferred her escortto matinee or zoo to that of any other person. Margaret also escortedMrs. Carr-Boldt's mother, a magnificent old lady, on shoppingexpeditions, and attended the meetings of charity boards for Mrs.Carr-Boldt. With notes and invitations, account books and chequebooks, dinner lists, and interviews with caterers, decorators, andflorists, Margaret's time was full, but she loved every moment of herwork, and gloried in her increasing usefulness.

  At first there were some dark days; notably the dreadful one uponwhich Margaret somehow--somewhere--dropped the box containing the newhat she was bringing home for Harriet, and kept the little girl out inthe cold afternoon air while the motor made a fruitless trip back tothe milliner's. Harriet contracted a cold, and Harriet's mother forthe first time spoke severely to Margaret. There was another bad daywhen Margaret artlessly admitted to Mrs. Pierre Polk at the telephonethat Mrs. Carr-Boldt was not engaged for dinner that evening, thusobliging her employer to snub the lady, or accept a distastefulinvitation to dine. And there was a most uncomfortable occasion whenMr. Carr-Boldt, not at all at his best, stumbled in upon his wife withsome angry observations meant for her ear alone; and Margaret, busywith accounts in a window recess, was, unknown to them both, adistressed witness.

  "Another time, Miss Paget," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt, coldly, uponMargaret's appearing scarlet-cheeked between the curtains, "don'toblige me to ascertain that you are not within hearing before feelingsure of privacy. Will you finish those bills upstairs, if you please?"

  Margaret went upstairs with a burning heart, cast her bills haphazardon her own desk, and flung herself, dry-eyed and furious, on the bed.She was far too angry to think, but lay there for perhaps twentyminutes with her brain whirling. Finally rising, she brushed up herhair, straightened her collar, and, full of tremendous resolves,stepped into her little sitting room, to find Mrs. Carr-Boldt in thebig chair, serenely eyeing her.

  "I'm so sorry I spoke so, Peggy," said her employer, generously. "Butthe truth is, I am not myself when--when Mr. Carr-Boldt--" The littlehesitating appeal in her voice completely disarmed Margaret. In theend the little episode cemented the rapidly growing friendship betweenthe two women, Mrs. Carr-Boldt seeming to enjoy the relief of speakingrather freely of what was the one real trial in her life.

  "My husband has always had too much money," she said, in her positiveway. "At one time we were afraid that he would absolutely ruin hishealth by this--habit of his. His physician and I took him around theworld,--I left Victoria, just a baby, with mother,--and for too yearshe was never out of my sight. It has never been so bad since. You knowyourself how reliable he usually is," she finished cheerfully, "unlesssome of the other men get hold of him!"

  As the months went on Margaret came to admire her employer more andmore. There was not an indolent impulse in Mrs. Carr-Boldt's entirecomposition. Smooth-haired, fresh-skinned, in spotless linen, shebegan the day at eight o'clock, full of energy and interest. She haddaily sessions with butler and house-keeper, shopped with Margaret andthe children, walked about her greenhouse or her country garden withher skirts pinned up, and had tulips potted and stone work continued.She was prominent in several clubs, a famous dinner-giver, she took apersonal interest in all her servants, loved to settle their quarrelsand have three or four of them up on the carpet at once, tearful andexplanatory. Margaret kept for her a list of some two hundred friends,whose birthdays were to be marked with carefully selected gifts. Shepleased Mrs. Carr-Boldt by her open amazement at the latter'svitality. The girl observed that her employer could not visit anyinstitution without making a few vigorous suggestions as she wentabout, she accompanied her cheques to the organized charities--and hercharity flowed only through absolutely reliable channels--with littlefriendly, advisory letters. She liked the democratic attitude forherself,--even while promptly snubbing any such tendency in childrenor friends;--and told Margaret that she only used her coat of arms onhouse linen, stationery, and livery, because her husband and motherliked it. "It's of course rather nice to realize that one comes fromone of the oldest of the Colonial families," she would say. "TheCarterets of Maryland, you know.--But
it's all such bosh!"

  And she urged Margaret to claim her own right to family honors:"You're a Quincy, my dear! Don't let that woman intimidate you,--shedidn't remember that her grandfather was a captain until her husbandmade his money. And where the family portraits came from I don't know,but I think there's a man on Fourth Avenue who does 'em!" she wouldsay, or, "I know all about Lilly Reynolds, Peggy. Her father was asrich as she says, and I daresay the crest is theirs. But ask her whather maternal grandmother did for a living, if you want to shut herup!" Other people she would condemn with a mere whispered "Coal!" or"Patent bath-tubs!" behind her fan, and it pleased her to tell peoplethat her treasure of a secretary had the finest blood in the world inher veins. Margaret was much admired, and Margaret was her discovery,and she liked to emphasize her find.

  Mrs. Carr-Boldt's mother, a tremulous, pompous old lady, unwittinglyaided the impression by taking an immense fancy to Margaret, and bytelling her few intimates and the older women among her daughter'sfriends that the girl was a perfect little thoroughbred. When theCarr-Boldts filled their house with the reckless and noisy companythey occasionally affected, Mrs. Carteret would say majestically toMargaret:--

  "You and I have nothing in common with this riff-raff, my dear!"

  Summer came, and Margaret headed a happy letter "Bar Harbor." Twomonths later all Weston knew that Margaret Paget was going abroad fora year with those rich people, and had written her mother from theLusitania. Letters from London, from Germany, from Holland, fromRussia, followed. "We are going to put the girls at school inSwitzerland, and (ahem!) winter on the Riviera, and then Rome for HolyWeek!" she wrote.

  She was presently home again, chattering French and German to amuseher father, teaching Becky a little Italian song to match her littleItalian costume.

  "It's wonderful to me how you get along with all these rich people,Mark," said her mother, admiringly, during Margaret's home visit. Mrs.Paget was watering the dejected-looking side garden with a stragglinglength of hose; Margaret and Julie shelling peas on the side steps.Margaret laughed, coloring a little.

  "Why, we're just as good as they are, Mother!"

  Mrs. Paget drenched a dried little dump of carnations.

  "We're as good," she admitted; "but we're not as rich, oras travelled,--we haven't the same ideas; we belong to adifferent class."

  "Oh, no, we don't, Mother," Margaret said quickly. "Who are the CarrBoldts, except for their money? Why, Mrs. Carteret,--for all herfamily!--isn't half the aristocrat Grandma was! And you--you could bea Daughter of The Officers of the Revolution, Mother!"

  "Why, Mark, I never heard that!" her mother protested, cleaningthe sprinkler with a hairpin.

  "Mother!" Julie said eagerly. "Great-grandfather Quincy!"

  "Oh, Grandpa," said Mrs. Paget. "Yes, Grandpa was a paymaster. He wason Governor Hancock's staff. They used to call him 'Major.' But Mark--"she turned off the water, holding her skirts away from thecombination of mud and dust underfoot, "that's a very silly way totalk, dear! Money does make a difference; it does no good to go backinto the past and say that this one was a judge and that one a major;we must live our lives where we are!"

  Margaret had not lost a wholesome respect for her mother's opinion inthe two years she had been away, but she had lived in a very differentworld, and was full of new ideas.

  "Mother, do you mean to tell me that if you and Dad hadn't had aperfect pack of children, and moved so much, and if Dad--say--had beenin that oil deal that he said he wished he had the money for, and westill lived in the brick house, that you wouldn't be in every way theequal of Mrs. Carr-Boldt?"

  "If you mean as far as money goes, Mark,--no. We might have been wellto-do as country people go, I suppose--"

  "Exactly!" said Margaret; "and you would have been as well off asdozens of the people who are going about in society this minute! It'sthe merest chance that we aren't rich. Just for instance: father'sfather had twelve children, didn't he?--and left them--how much wasit?--about three thousand dollars apiece--"

  "And a Godsend it was, too," said her mother, reflectively.

  "But suppose Dad had been the only child, Mother," Margaret persisted,"he would have had--"

  "He would have had the whole thirty-six thousand dollars,I suppose, Mark."

  "Or more," said Margaret, "for Grandfather Paget was presumablyspending money on them all the time."

  "Well, but, Mark--" said Mrs. Paget, laughing as at the vagaries of asmall child, "Father Paget did have twelve children--and Daddy and Ieight--" she sighed, as always, at the thought of the little son whowas gone,--"and there you are! You can't get away from that, dear."

  Margaret did not answer. But she thought to herself that very fewpeople held Mother's views of this subject.

  Mrs. Carr-Boldt's friends, for example, did not accept increasingcares in this resigned fashion; their lives were ideally pleasant andharmonious without the complicated responsibilities of large families.They drifted from season to season without care, always free, alwaysgay, always irreproachably gowned. In winter there were dailymeetings, for shopping, for luncheon, bridge or tea; summer was filledwith a score of country visits. There were motor-trips for week-ends,dinners, theatre, and the opera to fill the evenings, German orsinging lessons, manicure, masseuse, and dressmaker to crowd themorning hours all the year round. Margaret learned from theseexquisite, fragrant creatures the art of being perpetually fresh andcharming, learned their methods of caring for their own beauty,learned to love rare toilet waters and powders, fine embroidered linenand silk stockings. There was no particular strain upon her wardrobenow, nor upon her purse; she could be as dainty as she liked. Shelistened to the conversations that went on about her,--sometimescritical or unconvinced; more often admiring; and as she listened shefound slowly but certainly her own viewpoint. She was not mercenary.She would not marry a man just for his money, she decided, but just ascertainly she would not marry a man who could not give her acomfortable establishment, a position in society.

  The man seemed in no hurry to appear; as a matter of fact, the menwhom Margaret met were openly anxious to evade marriage, even with thewealthy girls of their own set. Margaret was not concerned; she wastoo happy to miss the love-making element; the men she saw were not ofa type to inspire a sensible busy, happy, girl with any very deepfeeling. And it was with generous and perfect satisfaction thatshe presently had news of Julie's happy engagement. Julie wasto marry a young and popular doctor, the only child of one ofWeston's most prominent families. The little sister's letterbubbled joyously with news.

  "Harry's father is going to build us a little house on the big place,the darling," wrote Julie; "and we will stay with them until it isdone. But in five years Harry says we will have a real honeymoon, inEurope! Think of going to Europe as a married woman! Mark, I wish youcould see my ring; it is a beauty, but don't tell Mother I was sillyenough to write about it!"

  Margaret delightedly selected a little collection of things forJulie's trousseau. A pair of silk stockings, a scarf she never hadworn, a lace petticoat, pink silk for a waist. Mrs. Carr-Boldt, comingin in the midst of these preparations, insisted upon adding so manyother things, from trunks and closets, that Margaret was speechlesswith delight. Scarves, cobwebby silks in uncut lengths, embroideredlingerie still in the tissue paper of Paris shops, parasols, gloves,and lengths of lace,--she piled all of them into Margaret's arms.Julie's trousseau was consequently quite the most beautiful Weston hadever seen; and the little sister's cloudless joy made the fortnightMargaret spent at home at the time of the wedding a very happy one. Itwas a time of rush and flurry, laughter and tears, of roses, and girlsin white gowns. But some ten days before the wedding, Julie andMargaret happened to be alone for a peaceful hour over their sewing,and fell to talking seriously.

  "You see, our house will be small," said Julie; "but I don't care--wedon't intend to stay in Weston all our lives. Don't breathe this toany one, Mark, but if Harry does as well as he's doing now for twoyears, we'll rent the little house, an
d we're going to Baltimorefor a year for a special course. Then--you know he's devoted toDr. McKim, he always calls him 'the chief,'--then he thinks maybeMcKim will work him into his practice,--he's getting old, you know,and that means New York!"

  "Oh, Ju,--really!"

  "I don't see why not," Julie said, dimpling. "Harry's crazy to do it.He says he doesn't propose to live and die in Weston. McKim couldthrow any amount of hospital practice his way, to begin with. And youknow Harry'll have something,--and the house will rent. I'm crazy,"said Julie, enthusiastically, "to take one of those lovely oldapartments on Washington Square, and meet a few nice people, you know,and really make something of my life!"

  "Mrs. Carr-Boldt and I will spin down for you every few days,"Margaret said, falling readily in with the plan. "I'm glad you're notgoing to simply get into a rut the way some of the other girlshave,--cooking and babies and nothing else!" she said.

  "I think that's an awful mistake," Julie said placidly. "Starting inright is so important. I don't want to be a mere drudge like Ethel orLouise--they may like it. I don't! Of course, this isn't a matter totalk of," she went on, coloring a little. "I'd never breathe this toMother! But it's perfectly absurd to pretend that girls don't discussthese things. I've talked to Betty and Louise--we all talk about it,you know. And Louise says they haven't had one free second since Buddycame. She can't keep one maid, and she says the idea of two maidseating their three meals a day, whether she's home or not, makes herperfectly sick! Some one's got to be with him every single second,even now, when he's four,--to see that he doesn't fall off something,or put things in his mouth. And as Louise says--it means no more weekend trips; you can't go visiting over night, you can't even go for aday's drive or a day on the beach, without extra clothes for the baby,a mosquito-net and an umbrella for the baby--milk packed in ice forthe baby--somebody trying to get the baby to take his nap--it's awful!It would end our Baltimore plan, and that means New York, and New Yorkmeans everything to Harry and me!" finished Julie, contentedly,flattening a finished bit of embroidery on her knee, and regardingit complacently.

  "Well, I think you're right," Margaret approved. "Things are differentnow from what they were in Mother's day."

  "And look at Mother," Julie said. "One long slavery! Life's too shortto wear yourself out that way!"

  Mrs. Paget's sunny cheerfulness was sadly shaken when the actualmoment of parting with the exquisite, rose-hatted, gray-frocked Juliecame; her face worked pitifully in its effort to smile; her tallfigure, awkward in an ill-made unbecoming new silk, seemed to drooptenderly over the little clinging wife. Margaret, stirred by the sightof tears on her mother's face, stood with an arm about her, when thebride and groom drove away in the afternoon sunshine.

  "I'm going to stay with you until she gets back!" she remindedher mother.

  "And you know you've always said you wanted the girls to marry,Mother," urged Mr. Paget. Rebecca felt this a felicitous moment to askif she and the boys could have the rest of the ice-cream.

  "Divide it evenly," said Mrs. Paget, wiping her eyes and smiling."Yes, I know, Daddy dear, I'm an ungrateful woman! I suppose your turnwill come next, Mark, and then I don't know what I will do!"