“Yes, and his father came, too,” said Margaret.  “Such an old dear—­you never saw him, did you?  He’s taller than Peter, but much thinner, and a great aristocrat.  He’s the only man I ever saw that has more presence than papa.  He looks like a fine old bird, and you can see his skull very plainly—­especially when he laughs, if you know what I mean.  And he’s really witty.  He knows all about you and wants you to go and stay with them sometime.”  Aladdin sighed for the pure delight of hearing Margaret’s voice running on and on.  He was busy looking at her, and did not pay the slightest attention to what she said.  “And the girl came to lunch, Aladdin, and she is so pretty, but not a bit serene like Peter, and the men are all wild about her, but she doesn’t care that—­”

“Doesn’t she?” said Aladdin, annoyingly.

“No, she doesn’t!” said Margaret, tartly.  “She says she’s going to be a horse-breaker or a nurse, and all the while she kept making eyes at brother John, and he lost his poise entirely and smirked and blushed, and I shouldn’t wonder a bit if he’d made up his mind to marry her, and if he has he will—­”

Aladdin caught at the gist of the last sentence.  “Is that all that’s necessary?” he said.  “Has a man only got to make up his mind to marry a certain girl?”

“It’s all brother John would have to do,” said Margaret, provokingly.

“Admitting that,” said Aladdin, “how about the other men?”

“Why,” said Margaret, “I suppose that if a man really and truly makes up his mind to get the girl he wants, he’ll get her.”

She looked at him with a grand innocence.  Aladdin’s heart leaped a little.

“But suppose two men made up their minds,” said Aladdin, “to get the same girl.”

“That would just prove the rule,” said Margaret, refusing to see any personal application, “because one of them would get her, and the other would be the exception.”

“Would the one who spoke first have an advantage?” said Aladdin.  “Suppose he’d wanted her ever so long, and had tried to succeed because of her, and”—­he was warming to the subject, which meant much to him—­“had never known that there was any other girl in the world, and had pinned all his faith and hope on her, would he have any advantage?”

“I don’t know,” said Margaret, rather dreamily.

“Because if he would—­” Aladdin reached forward and took one of her hands in his two.

She let it lie there, and for a moment they looked into each other’s eyes.  Margaret withdrew her hand.

“I know—­I know,” she said.  “But you mustn’t say it, ’Laddin dear, because—­somehow I feel that there are heaps of things to be considered before either of us ought to think of that.  And how can we be quite sure?  Anyway, if it’s going to happen—­it will happen.  And that’s all I’m going to say, ’Laddin.”

“Tell me,” he said gently, “what the trouble is, dear.  Is it this:  do you think you care for me, and aren’t sure?  Is that it?”