"I only wish he'd marry her and—and give her a good time all her life," avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.

"Marry her!" exclaimed two scornful voices.

"Well, why not? She's good enough for him," bridled Mellicent. "Aunt Maggie's good enough for anybody!"

"Of course she is, child!" laughed Miss Flora. "Maggie's a saint—if ever there was one."

"Yes, but I shouldn't call her a MARRYING saint," smiled Jane.

"Well, I don't know about that," frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully. "Hattie always declared there'd be a match between her and Mr. Smith, you know."

"Yes. But there wasn't one, was there?" twitted Jane. "Well, then, I shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all right, but not a marrying one—unless some one marries her now for her money, of course."

"As if Aunt Maggie'd stand for that!" scoffed Mellicent. "Besides, she wouldn't have to! Aunt Maggie's good enough to be married for herself."

"There, there, child, just because you are a love-sick little piece of romance just now, you needn't think everybody else is," her mother reproved her a little sharply.

But Mellicent only laughed merrily as she disappeared into her own room.

"Speaking of Mr. Smith, I wonder where he is, and if he'll ever come back here," mused Miss Flora, aloud. "I wish he would. He was a very nice man, and I liked him."

"Goodness, Flora, YOU aren't, getting romantic, too, are you?" teased her sister-in-law.

"Nonsense, Jane!" ejaculated Miss Flora sharply, buttoning up her coat. "I'm no more romantic than—than poor Maggie herself is!"

Two weeks later, to a day, came Miss Maggie's letter announcing her engagement to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, and saying that she was to be married in Chicago before Christmas.

Chapter XXVI - Reenter Mr. Stanley G. Fulton

*

In the library of Mrs. Thomas Tyndall's Chicago home Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was impatiently awaiting the appearance of Miss Maggie Duff. In a minute she came in, looking charmingly youthful in her new, well- fitting frock.

The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover's ardent kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms' length.

"Why, dearest, what's the matter?" he demanded.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You look as if—if something had happened—not exactly a bad something, but—What is it?"

Miss Maggie laughed softly.

"That's one of the very nicest things about you, Mr. Stanley-G.- Fulton-John-Smith," she sighed, nestling comfortably into the curve of his arm, as they sat down on the divan;—"that you NOTICE things so.. And it seems so good to me to have somebody—NOTICE."

"Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I've wasted!"

"Oh, but I shan't be lonely any more now. And, listen—I'll tell you what made me look so funny. I've had a letter from Flora. You know I wrote them—about my coming marriage."

"Yes, yes," eagerly. "Well, what did they say?"