anything. They talked about the Red Cross campaign against
tuberculosis, or big game hunting in Africa, or the unerring accuracy
of steel-workers on the skeletons of skyscrapers, throwing red-hot
rivets across yawning spaces and striking the bucket, held to receive
them, every time. And their talk was as simple, as eager, as
unaffected, as hers had been as she talked with Godmother about her
blue silk dress. All those things were a part of their world, as the
blue dress was a part of hers.

She was so interested that she forgot to be afraid. And by and by when
Godmother had drifted off with some one and Mary Alice found herself
alone with one man, she was feeling so "folksy" that she looked up at
him and laughed.

"Seems as if every one had found a 'burning theme'--all but us!" she
said.

The young man--he _was_ young, and very good-looking, in an unusual
sort of way--flushed. "I don't know any of them," he said; "I'm a
stranger."

"So am I," said Mary Alice, "and I don't know any one either. But I'd
like to know some of these people better; wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," returned the young man. "I haven't seen much of
people, and I don't feel at home with them."

"Oh!" cried Mary Alice, quite excitedly, "you need a fairy godmother to
tell you a Secret."