much a woman may revel in the admiration of men, there are times when
she craves the confidence of at least one woman. Mrs. Waldemar led
Carol up-stairs to a most seductively attractive little sitting-room,
and Carol sat at her feet, as it were, for two full hours.

Then she tripped away home, more than ever aware of the wonderful charm
of Mrs. Waldemar, but thanking God she was young.

When David came in to dinner, a radiant Carol awaited him. In the
ruffly white dress, with its baby blue ribbons, and with a wide band of
the same color in her hair, and tiny curls clustering about her pink
ears, she was a very infant of a minister's wife.

David took her in his arms appreciatively. "You little baby," he said
adoringly, "you look younger every day. Will you ever grow up? A
minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll."

Carol giggled, and rumpled up his hair; When she took her place at the
table she artfully snuggled low in her chair, peeping roguishly at him
from behind the wedding-present coffee urn.

"David," she began, as soon as he finished the blessing, "I've been
thinking all day of what you said about Mrs. Waldemar, and I've been
ashamed of myself. I really have avoided her. She is so old, and
clever, and I am such a goose, and people said things about her,
and--but after last night I was ashamed. So to-day I went to see her,
all alone by myself, without a gun or anything to protect me."

David laughed, nodding at her approvingly. "Good for you, Carol," he
cried in approbation. "That was fine. How did you get along?"