“Georgie-Porgie?”

“Oh, I always call him that, and he hates it,” Madge laughed at the memory.

“You did it to—­tease him?” slowly.

“I did it because it was—­true.  You know the old nursery rhyme?  Well, George is like that.  There were always so many girls to be—­kissed, and it was so easy to—­run away——­”

She said it lightly, with shrugged shoulders, but she did not look at
Becky.

And that night when she was dressing for dinner, Madge said to her husband, “It sounded—­catty—­Mark.  But I had to do it.  There’s that darling boy down there eating his heart out.  And she is nursing a dream——­”

The Major was standing by his wife’s door, and she was in front of her mirror.  It reflected her gold brocade, her amethysts linked with diamonds in a long chain that ended in a jeweled locket.  Her jewel case was open and she brought out the pendant that George had sent her and held it against her throat.  “It matches the others,” she said.

He arched his eyebrows in inquiry.

“I wouldn’t wear it,” she said with a sudden quick force, “if there was not another jewel in the world.  I wish he hadn’t sent it.  Oh, Mark, I wish I hadn’t known him before I found—­you,” she came up to him swiftly; “such men as you,” she said, “if women could only meet them—­first——­”

His arm went around her.  “It is enough that we—­met——­”

Becky was also at her mirror at that moment.  She had dressed carefully in silver and white with her pearls and silver slippers.  Louise came in and looked at her.  “I haven’t any grand and gorgeous things, you know.  And I fancy your Mrs. Prime will be rather gorgeous.”

“It suits her,” said Becky, “but after this she is going to be different.”  She told Louise about the ranch and the linen frocks and the frilled aprons.  “She is going to make herself over.  I wonder if it will be a success.”

“It doesn’t fit in with my theories,” said Louise.  “I think it is much better if people marry each other ready-made.”

Becky turned from her mirror.  “Louise,” she said, “does anything ever fit in with a woman’s theories when she falls in love?”

“One shouldn’t fall in love,” Louise said, serenely, “they should walk squarely into it.  That’s what I shall do, when I get ready to marry——­ But I shall love Archibald as long as the good Lord will let me——­”

She was trying to say it lightly, but a quiver of her voice betrayed her.

“Louise,” Becky said, “what’s the matter with Archibald?  Is anything really the matter?”

Louise began to cry.  “Archie saw the doctor to-day, and he won’t promise anything—­I made Arch tell me——­”

“Oh, Louise.”  Becky’s lips were white.

“Of course if he takes good care of himself, it may not be for years.  You mustn’t let him know that I told you, Becky.  But I had to tell somebody.  I’ve kept it all bottled up as if I were a stone image.  And I’m not a stone image, and he’s all I have.”