glanced up and down the street guiltily. Not a committee member was in sight. The street was untroubled by the feet of members of the Federation of Women's Clubs. Mrs. Fielding vanished into the candy shop. It was quite safe to leave Marjorie outside; she would remain with her nose, and her nose seemed permanently affixed to the window. 

 But when Mrs. Fielding emerged with a small paper bag in her hand Marjorie turned. The sight of one of the delicious pink lumps of sweetness being lifted from the bag drew her away from the window, and when the bonbon was dropped into her open mouth she was conquered. She followed her mother gladly. Wherever that paper bag might go, Marjorie would follow. The last bonbon disappeared before they reached home, but Mrs. Fielding continued to carry the empty bag, and Marjorie followed it. 

 “Miss Vickers,” said Mrs. Fielding, as she turned Marjorie over to her, “you must never, never allow any one to give Marjorie candy. It would not be good for her.” Thus she tried to secure a monopoly of Marjorie's love, and forestall any ill effects, but she did not know the depths to which Chiswick had sunk. Concealed in her loose shirt waist was something that rustled suspiciously like paper and that made her once care-free conscience cringe at every rustle. 

 Naturally, Marjorie got too much candy. Whenever she was alone with one of her family she found candy appearing from unsuspected places about their persons, and she began to like confidential little parties of two. 

 It was truly joyful to see Marjorie eat candy. She was not greedy. At least, she did not look greedy. She looked surprised and pleased. She never seemed so soulful and sinless as at the moment when her pink lips closed over a bonbon. At such a moment she seemed to forget the world and to live in a more blessed sphere. The committee was particularly strict about candy. It made the most positive rules against candy and had them pasted on the walls of the nursery, and then during its calls, each of its members skirmished to be the last to leave. The last out of the room usually dropped a piece of candy into Marjorie's mouth. 

 Her indisposition was a glorious opportunity for the candy givers. Everybody had a good excuse for going to the nursery as often as possible, and she was in a constant glow of cherubic bliss, until the day of reckoning came. She lay on her cot and was crudely, simply sick. Her eyes were sunken and her cheeks varied from pale yellow to feverish red. For the first time in her life she refused candy. 

 

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