o herself.

"I suppose you don't ever call him 'Mary Jane,'" she said to the girl, a
little mischievously, one day.

"'Mary Jane'? Mr. Arkwright? No, I don't," rejoined Miss Greggory, with
an odd smile. Then, after a moment, she added: "I believe his brothers
and sisters used to, however."

"Yes, I know," laughed Billy. "We thought he was a real Mary Jane,
once." And she told the story of his arrival. "So you see," she
finished, when Alice Greggory had done laughing over the tale, "he
always will be 'Mary Jane' to us. By the way, what is his name?"

Miss Greggory looked up in surprise.

"Why, it's--" She stopped short, her eyes questioning. "Why, hasn't he
ever told you?" she queried.

Billy lifted her chin.

"No. He told us to guess it, and we have guessed everything we can think
of, even up to 'Methuselah John'; but he says we haven't hit it yet."

"'Methuselah John,' indeed!" laughed the other, merrily.

"Well, I'm sure that's a nice, solid name," defended Billy, her chin
still at a challenging tilt. "If it isn't 'Methuselah John,' what is it,
then?"

But Alice Greggory shook her head. She, too, it seemed, could be firm,
on occasion. And though she smiled brightly, all she would say, was:

"If he hasn't told you, I sha'n't. You'll have to go to him."

"Oh, well, I can still call him 'Mary Jane,'" retorted Billy, with airy
disdain.

All this, however, so far as Billy could see, was not in the least
helping along the cause that had become so dear to her--the reuniting of
a pair of lovers. It occurred to her then, one day, that perhaps, after
all, they were not lovers, and did not wish to be reunited. At
this disquieting thought Billy decided, suddenly, to go almost to
headquarters. She would speak to Mrs. Greggory if ever the opportunity
offered. Great was her joy, therefore, when, a day or two after the
Greggorys arrived at the house, Mrs. Greggory's chance reference to
Arkwright and her daughter gave Billy the opportunity she sought.

"They used to know each other long ago, Mr. Arkwright tells me," Billy
began warily.

"Yes."

The quietly polite monosyllable was not very encouraging, to be sure;
but Billy, secure in her conviction that her cause was a righteous one,
refused to be daunted.

"I think it was so romantic--their running across each other like this,
Mrs. Greggory," she murmured. "And there _was_ a romance, wasn't there?
I have just felt in my bones that there was--a romance!"

Billy