mollified." She paused to laugh again, then continued tragically, "Sympathy is what I need now. To begin with, it was the most perfect day—the sort to make you forget tiresome conventions." 

 Uncle Bob nodded. "Perhaps he forgot, too," he suggested. 

 Margaret Elizabeth bit her lip. "That's true. I must try to be fair. He had nice eyes, Uncle Bob—with a twinkle in them." A smile played over her lips, her dimple came and went. She gazed absently at the curling flame. Suddenly she rose from her ottoman, and seated herself bolt upright on the sofa with one of the plumpest cushions behind her. "All the same it was inexcusable in me," she declared sternly. 

 "What was?" asked her uncle. 

 "The nonsense I talked. About a Fairy Godmother Society! No doubt he was laughing in his sleeve all the time." 

 "Oh, I guess not. It sounds quite original and interesting. Have you copyrighted the idea?" 

 "Uncle Bob, you are a dear. Some time I'll tell you all about it—when I get over feeling so terribly, if I ever do." 

 "Now, really," insisted Uncle Bob, "I don't see why you should worry. You are almost certain to meet him again, and——" 

 "I shall die if I do," Margaret Elizabeth declared; but somehow the assertion failed to ring true. 

 "From what you have said he is plainly a gentleman, and altogether matters might be worse," Uncle Bob concluded. 

 Miss Bentley shook her head. "I don't see how they could be," she insisted. 

 

     CHAPTER SEVEN 

 Shows how the Candy Wagon is visited in behalf of the Squirrel, and how pride suffers a fall; how Miss Bentley turns to Vedantic Philosophy to drown her annoyance, and discovers how hard it is to forget when you wish to. 

 "When I reflect upon the small weight attaching to true worth unsupported by personal charm, I am tempted to turn cynic." 

 Dr. Prue closed her bag with a snap and lifted her arms to adjust a hatpin. 

 "Youth and beauty take the trick, that's a fact." Uncle Bob 

 Prev. P 31/76 next