s arms were out, were gathering them both
in,--were strangling them in wild, exultant hugs.

"Oh! Oh, you're mine! I'm yours! We're each other's! I'm not an
Adopted any more! I thought I was, and I wasn't! I was going away and
die--oh, oh, oh!"

Then Margaret remembered the Enemy, and in the throes of her pity the
enmity was swallowed up forever. The instant yearning that welled up
in her to put her arms around the poor real Adopted almost stifled
her. She slid out of the two pairs of big tender arms and scurried
away like a hare. She was going to find Nelly and love her--oh, love
her enough to make up! She would give her the coral beads she had
always admired; she would let her be mistress and _she'd_ be maid
when they kept house,--she'd let her have the frosting half of all
their cake and _all_ the raisins.

"I'll let her wear the spangly veil when we dress up--oh, poor, poor
Nelly!" Margaret cried softly as she ran. "And the longest trail.
She may be the richest and have the most children--I'd _rather_."

There did not seem anything possible and beloved that she would not
let Nelly do. She took agitated little leaps through the soft
darkness, sending on ahead her yearning love in a tender little call:
"Nelly! Nelly!"

She could never be too tender--too generous--to Nelly, to try to make
up. And all her life she would take care of her and keep her from
finding out. She shouldn't find out! When they were both, oh, very
old, she would still be taking care of Nelly like that.

"Nelly! Nelly!"

If she could only think of some Great Thing she could do, that
would--would _hurt_ to do! And then she thought. She stopped quite
suddenly in her impetuous rush, stilled by the Greatness of it.

"I'll let her love her mother the best," whispered Margaret to the
stars,--"so there!"

Chapter IV

Bobby Unwelcome

Bobby had learned U that day in school, and he
strutted home beside his nurse, Olga, with conscious relief in the
swing of his sturdy legs. There was a special reason why Bobby felt
relieved to get to U. He glanced up, up, up, sidewise, at the
non-committal face so far above him, and wondered in his anxious
little way whether or not it would be prudent to speak of the special
reason now. Olga _had_ times, Bobby had discovered, when you dassent
speak of things, and it looked--yes, cert'nly--as though she was
having one now. Still, if you only dast to--

"It's the same one that's in the middle o' my nam