his authority over
his juniors; and finally a plan began to emerge from the chaos, and each
child to fit into it like a bit of a picture puzzle.

Susy, riding the whirlwind with her usual firmness, nevertheless felt an
undercurrent of anxiety. There had been no time as yet, between her and
Nick, to revert to money matters; and where there was so little money
it could not, obviously, much matter. But that was the more reason for
being secretly aghast at her intrepid resolve not to separate herself
from her charges. A three days' honey-moon with five children in the
party-and children with the Fulmer appetite--could not but be a costly
business; and while she settled details, packed them off to school, and
routed out such nondescript receptacles as the house contained in the
way of luggage, her thoughts remained fixed on the familiar financial
problem.

Yes--it was cruel to have it rear its hated head, even through the
bursting boughs of her new spring; but there it was, the perpetual
serpent in her Eden, to be bribed, fed, sent to sleep with such scraps
as she could beg, borrow or steal for it. And she supposed it was the
price that fate meant her to pay for her blessedness, and was surer than
ever that the blessedness was worth it. Only, how was she to compound
the business with her new principles?

With the children's things to pack, luncheon to be got ready, and the
Fontainebleau pension to be telephoned to, there was little time to
waste on moral casuistry; and Susy asked herself with a certain irony
if the chronic lack of time to deal with money difficulties had not been
the chief cause of her previous lapses. There was no time to deal with
this question either; no time, in short, to do anything but rush forward
on a great gale of plans and preparations, in the course of which she
whirled Nick forth to buy some charcuterie for luncheon, and telephone
to Fontainebleau.

Once he was gone--and after watching him safely round the corner--she
too got into her wraps, and transferring a small packet from her
dressing-case to her pocket, hastened out in a different direction.

XXX

IT took two brimming taxi-cabs to carry the Nicholas Lansings to the
station on their second honey-moon. In the first were Nick, Susy and the
luggage of the whole party (little Nat's motor horn included, as a last
concession, and because he had hitherto forborne to play on it); and in
the second, the five Fulmers, the bonne, who at the