to do some
of it, just to keep life amusing. _I_ think you and Francis get along
like kittens in a basket."

"And does she think we quarrel?" inquired Marjorie sleepily, yet with
suspicion.

Peggy shook her head with indubitable honesty.

"No, she only says you will sooner or later. But that's because she's
Irish, I think; you know Irish people do like a bit of a shindy once in
awhile. I admit I don't mind it myself. But you Americans born are
quieter. When you quarrel you seem to take no pleasure whatever in it,
for all I can see!"

Marjorie laughed irrepressibly.

"Oh, Peggy, I do love you!" she said. "It's true, I don't like
quarreling a bit. It always makes me unhappy. It's my Puritan
ancestry, I suppose."

"Well, you can't help your forebears," said Peggy sagely.

"And now shall I call up the folks for the dance to-night?"

"Oh, yes, do!" begged Marjorie, who had slept as much as she wanted to
and felt ready for anything in the world.

She lay on in the khaki hammock in a happy drowsiness. The wind and
sunshine alone were enough to make her happy. And there was going to
be a dance to-night, and she could wear a little pink dress she
remembered . . . and pretty soon there would be luncheon, and after
that she was going off on a gorgeous expedition with Francis, where
there was a fire, and rabbits and maybe a nice but perfectly harmless
little green snake that would look at her affectionately . . . but
everybody looked at you affectionately, once you were married . . . it
was very warming and comforting. . . .

She was asleep again before she knew it. It was only Francis's quick
step on the porch that woke her--Francis, very alert and flushed, and
exceedingly hungry.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Francis, the food's been waitin' you this long time,"
said Mrs. O'Mara, evidently in answer to a soul-cry of Francis's, for
he had not had time to say anything aloud. "Bring yer wife an' come
along an' eat."

So they went in without further word spoken, and after all Marjorie
found herself the possessor of as good an appetite as she'd had for
breakfast.

"Be sure to get back in time to dress for the dance," Peggy warned them
as they started off in the motor-cycle. "It's to be a really fine
dance, with the girls in muslin dresses, not brogans and shirtwaists!"

"The girls?" asked Marjorie of Francis wonderingly.

"I think she means that the men aren't to wear brogans, or the girls
shirtwaists," he explaine