“Perfectly certain.  You see the resemblance was remarkable, all but the eyes, and I thought Mr. McAllister had simply waked up.  People are sometimes stiff when you first meet them.  He knew who I was, for he called me Miss Bentley.  Naturally I thought it was some one I had met—­particularly when he mentioned the accident.  You see, in getting out of the machine at the Country Club a day or two before I caught my skirt in the door and fell, striking my elbow.  It didn’t amount to anything, though it hurt for a minute, but Aunt Eleanor made a great fuss.  He may have been somewhere about at the time, but I didn’t meet him.  And it makes me furious,” Margaret Elizabeth continued, “when I think of his not telling me.”

“Telling you that you didn’t know him?” asked Uncle Bob.

“Certainly, he should have said at the very beginning, ’Miss Bentley, you are mistaken in thinking you know me.’”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Uncle Bob.

“Now what are you laughing at?” his niece demanded.  “Honestly, don’t you think he should have?” But she laughed herself.

“Well, perhaps,” he owned, reflecting, however, that if Margaret Elizabeth looked half so alluring that morning as she did now in her grey-blue frock, with her bright hair a bit tumbled, it was asking a good deal of human nature.

“Now, of course, Uncle Bob, this is strictly confidential.  I wouldn’t have Dr. Prue know for the world.  It is bad enough to have Aunt Eleanor smiling sarcastically, though she doesn’t know half.  I think I have at length quieted her, and the great Augustus is entirely 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.