"Well, as I said, it did have something to do—with my money; but just now, when you asked me if I—I was marrying you or your money—"

"But I was in fun—you know I was in fun!" defended the man hotly.

"Oh, yes, I knew that," nodded Miss Maggie. "But it—it made me laugh and remember—the letters. You see, they weren't as you thought. They didn't tell me of—of money lost. They told me of money—gained."

"Gained?"

"Yes. That father's Cousin George in Alaska had died and left me— fifty thousand dollars."

"But, my dear woman, why in Heaven's name wouldn't you tell me that?"

"Because." Miss Maggie took a step nearer the door. "You see, I thought you were poor—very poor, and I—I wouldn't even own up to it myself, but I knew, in my heart, that I was afraid, if you heard I had this money, you wouldn't—you wouldn't—ask me to—to—"

She was blushing so adorably now that the man understood and leaped to his feet.

"Maggie, you—darling!"

But the door had shut—Miss Maggie had fled.

Chapter XXIV - That Miserable Money

*

In the evening, after the Martin girls had gone to their rooms, Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith faced the thing squarely.

"Of course," he began with a sigh, "I'm really not out of the woods at all. Blissfully happy as I am, I'm really deeper in the woods than ever, for now I've got you there with me, to look out for. However successfully John Smith might dematerialize into nothingness—Maggie Duff can't."

"No, I know she can't," admitted Miss Maggie soberly.

"Yet if she marries John Smith she'll have to—and if she doesn't marry him, how's Stanley G. Fulton going to do his courting? He can't come here."

"But he must!" Miss Maggie looked up with startled eyes. "Why, Mr. Smith, you'll HAVE to tell them—who you are. You'll have to tell them right away."

The man made a playfully wry face.

"I shall be glad," he observed, "when I shan't have to be held off at the end of a 'Mr.'! However, we'll let that pass—until we settle the other matter. Have you given any thought as to HOW I'm going to tell Cousin Frank and Cousin James and Cousin Flora that I am Stanley G. Fulton?"

"No—except that you must do it," she answered decidedly. "I don't think you ought to deceive them another minute—not another minute."

"Hm-m." Mr. Smith's eyes grew reflective. "And had you thought-as to what would happen when I did tell them?"

"Why, n-no, not particularly, except that—that they naturally wouldn't like it, at first, and that you'd have to explain—just as you did to me—why you did it."

"And do you think they'll like it any better—when I do explain? Think!"