garet, irritation evident in her voice, in spite
of herself.

"Hello, Mark!" said her brother, delightedly. "Say, great to see you!
Get in on the four-ten?"

"Ted," said Margaret, kissing him, as the Pagets always quite
simply kissed each other when they met, "what are you driving
Costello's cart for?"

"Like to," said Theodore, simply. "Mother doesn't care. Say, you look
swell, Mark!"

"What makes you want to drive this horrid cart, Ted?" protested
Margaret. "What does Costello pay you?"

"Pay me?" scowled her brother, gathering up the reins. "Oh, come out
of it, Marg'ret! He doesn't pay me anything. Don't you make Mother
stop me, either, will you?" he ended anxiously.

"Of course I won't!" Margaret said impatiently.

"Giddap, Ruth!" said Theodore; but departing, he pulled up to add
cheerfully, "Say, Dad didn't get his raise."

"Did?" said Margaret, brightening.

"Didn't!" He grinned affectionately upon her as with a dislocating
jerk the cart started a ricochetting career down the street, with
that abandon known only to butchers' carts. Margaret, changing
her heavy suit-case to the rested arm, was still vexedly watching
it, when two girls, laughing in the open doorway of the express
company's office across the street, caught sight of her. One of
them, a little vision of pink hat and ruffles, and dark eyes and
hair, came running to join her.

Rebecca was now sixteen, and of all the handsome Pagets the best to
look upon. She was dressed according to her youthful lights; every
separate article of her apparel to-day, from her rowdyish little hat
to her openwork hose, represented a battle with Mrs. Paget's
preconceived ideas as to propriety in dress, with the honors largely
for Rebecca. Rebecca had grown up, in eight months, her sister
thought, confusedly; she was no longer the adorable, un-self-conscious
tomboy who fought and skated and toboganned with the boys.

"Hello, darling dear!" said Rebecca. "Too bad no one met you! We all
thought you were coming on the six. Crazy about your suit! Here's
Maudie Pratt. You know Maudie, don't you, Mark?"

Margaret knew Maudie. Rebecca's infatuation for plain, heavy-featured,
complacent Miss Pratt was a standing mystery in the Paget family.
Margaret smiled, bowed.

"I think we stumbled upon a pretty little secret of yours to-day, Miss
Margaret," said Maudie, with her best company manner, as they walked
along. Margaret raised her eyebrows. "Rebel and I," Maudie went