go!'"

Marjorie thought it was time to take a hand here. Francis was standing
there, still, not trying to answer Peggy. He seemed to Marjorie
pitifully at their mercy; why, she did not know, for he had neither
said nor looked anything but the utmost sternness. And Marjorie
herself knew that he was not being kind or fair--that he had not been,
in his exaction. Still she looked at that hand, moving like a sentient
thing, and spoke.

"Peggy, some day I'll tell you all about it, or Francis will. You and
Francis have been friends for a long, long time, and I don't want you
to be angry with him because of me--just a stranger. And for the
present, I can tell you only this, that Francis is right, I am doing
this of my own free will. You are a darling to come and care about
what happens to me."

Peggy was softened at once. She pulled Marjorie to her and gave her a
sounding kiss.

"And you're a darling, too, and you're not a stranger--don't we love
you for Francis's sake--oh, there, and I was forgetting! I suppose I'm
not to be down on you, Francis. But I couldn't help thinking things
were queer. It's not the customary way to let your bride spend her
honeymoon, from all I've heard. Oh, and it's five o'clock, and it
takes an hour and a half to get back, though I borrowed the priest's
housekeeper's bicycle."

She sprang up, dropping from her lap the bundle of aprons which
Marjorie had waited for.

"Mind, Francis, I've not forgiven you yet," she called back. "When
poor Mr. Logan is better I'll have the whole story out of him, or my
name's not Margaret O'Mara."

She was on her bicycle and away before they could answer her.

"And it's time I went over to the cook-shed," said Marjorie evenly,
rising, too, and beginning to unfasten the bundle of aprons. They were
a little hard to unfasten, from the too secure knots Mrs. O'Mara had
made, and she dropped down again, bending intently over them to get
them free. Suddenly they were pushed aside, and Francis had flung
himself down by her, with his head on her knees, holding her fast.

"Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie!" he said. "Don't stay. I can't bear to have
you acting like this--like an angel. I've been unfair and unkind--it
didn't need Peggy to tell me that. Go on away from me. And forgive
me, if you can, some time."

She looked down at the black head on her knees. It was victory,
then--of a sort. And suddenly her perverse heart hardened.

"Please get up, Fra