“I wonder if the’s any reason, Mary Lou’siana, why you can’t just come down here and stay with me this summah?” said Mrs. Archibald, suddenly. “’Lizabeth Sarah and Harry Fairfax, they’re always coming and going, and Lord knows it would be like havin’ one of my own girls back, to me.  We’ve room, and there’s a lot of nice people down hereabouts—­”

A chorus arose, Mrs. Honey well protesting joyously that that was too much imp’sition for any use, ’Lizabeth Sarah and Harry Fairfax violently favorable to the idea, Mrs. Archibald magnificently overriding objections, Mary and George trying with laughter to separate jest from earnest.  Mrs. Honeywell, overborne, was dragged upstairs to inspect “her room,” old Aunt Curry, the colored maid and cook, adding her deep-noted welcome to “Miss Mar’ Lou.”  It was arranged that Mamma should at least spend the night, and George and Mary left her there, and came happily home together, laughing, over their little downtown dinner, with an almost parental indulgence, at Mamma.

In the end, Mamma did go down to the Archibald’s for an indefinite stay.  Mary quite overwhelmed her with generous contributions to her wardrobe, and George presented her with a long-coveted chain.  The parting took place with great affection and regret expressed on both sides.  But this timely relief was clouded for Mary when Mamma flitted in to see her a day or two later.  Mamma wondered if Ma’y dearest could possibly let her have two hundred dollars.

“Muddie, you’ve overdrawn again!” Mary accused her.  For Mamma had an income of a thousand a year.

“No, dear, it’s not that.  I am a little overdrawn, but it’s not that.  But you see Richie Carter lives right next do’ to the Arch’balds,”—­Mamma’s natural Southern accent was gaining strength every day now,—­“and it might be awkward, meetin’ him, don’t you know?”

“Awkward?” Mary echoed, frowning.

“Well, you see, Ma’y, love, some years ago I was intimate with his wife,” her mother proceeded with some little embarrassment, “and so when I met him at the Springs last year, I confided in him about—­ laws!  I forget what it was exactly, some bills I didn’t want to bother Georgie about, anyway.  And he was perfectly charmin’ about it I”

“Oh, Mamma!” Mary said in distress, “not Richard Carter of the Carter Construction Company?  Oh, Mamma, you know how George hates that whole crowd!  You didn’t borrow money of him!”

“Not that he’d ever speak of it—­he’d die first!” Mrs. Honeywell said hastily.

“I’ll have to ask George for it,” Mary said after a long pause, “and he’ll be furious.”  To which Mamma, who was on the point of departure, agreed, adding thoughtfully, “I’m always glad not to be here if Georgie’s going to fly into a rage.”

George did fly into a rage at this piece of news, and said some scathing things of Mamma, even while he wrote out a check for two hundred dollars.