"It's funny that you didn't know you were rich. Everybody says so, and
all the nurses in the Park talk about it every time you and Scott walk
past."

"If I'm rich," said Geraldine, "why don't I have more money?"

"Don't they let you have as much as you want?"

"No--only twenty-five cents every month.... It's my turn, Naïda! Oh,
bother! I missed. Go on, Duane----"

And, glancing up, her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth as Kathleen
Severn, in her mourning veil and gown, came straight up to where they
sat.

"Geraldine, dear, the grass is too damp to sit on," said Mrs. Severn
quietly. She turned to the youthful guests, who had hastily risen.

"You are Naïda Mallett, it seems; and you are Duane? Please come in now
and wash and dress properly, because I am going to telephone to your
mother and ask her if you may remain to luncheon and play in the nursery
afterward."

Dazed, the children silently followed her; one of her arms lay loosely
about the shoulders of her own charges; one encircled Naïda's neck.
Duane walked cautiously beside his sister.

In the house the nurses took charge; Geraldine, turning on the stairs,
looked back at Kathleen Severn.