ut!" This was Julie
again; and then Margaret, coaxingly, "Do make cream gravy for Bruce,
Mother. Give Baby to me!" and little Robert's elated "I know three
things Becky's going to get for Christmas, Mark!"

"Well, I think I will, there's milk," Mrs. Paget conceded, rising.
"Put Bran out, Teddy; or put him in the laundry if you want to, while
we have dinner." Margaret presently followed her mother into the
kitchen, stopping in a crowded passageway to tie an apron over her
school gown.

"Bruce come in yet?" she said in a low voice.

Her mother flashed her a sympathetic look.

"I don't believe he's coming, Mark."

"Isn't! Oh, Mother! Oh, Mother, does he feel so badly about Betty?"

"I suppose so!" Mrs. Paget went on with her bread cutting.

"But, Mother, surely he didn't expect to marry Betty Forsythe?"

"I don't know why not, Mark. She's a sweet little thing."

"But, Mother--" Margaret was a little at a loss. "We don't seem old
enough to really be getting married!" she said, a little lamely.

"Brucie came in about half-past five, and said he was going over to
Richie's," Mrs. Paget said, with a sigh.

"In all this rain--that long walk!" Margaret ejaculated, as she filled
a long wicker basket with sliced bread.

"I think an evening of work with Richie will do him a world of good,"
said his mother. There was a pause. "There's Dad. I'll go in," she
said, suddenly ending it, as the front door slammed.

Margaret went in, too, to kiss her father; a tired-looking, gray
haired man close to fifty, who had taken her chair by the fire. Mrs.
Paget was anxious to be assured that his shoulders and shoes were not
damp.

"But your hands are icy, Daddy," said she, as she sat down behind a
smoking tureen at the head of the table. "Come, have your nice hot
soup, dear. Pass that to Dad, Becky, and light the other gas. What
sort of a day?"

"A hard day," said Mr. Paget, heavily. "Here, one of you girls put
Baby into his chair. Let go, Bob,--I'm too tired to-night for monkey
shines!" He sat down stiffly. "Where's Bruce? Can't that boy remember
what time we have dinner?"

"Bruce is going to have supper with Richie Williams, Dad," said Mrs.
Paget, serenely. "They'll get out their blue prints afterwards and
have a good evening's work. Fill the glasses before you sit down, Ju.
Come, Ted--put that back on the mantel.--Come, Becky! Tell Daddy about
what happened to-day, Mark--"

They all drew up their chairs. Robert, recently gr