"Mother knows nothing of it, of course, and a word from you or him would
ruin everything," continued the breathless Susy. "That's why I came
to fetch you and warn you. You must see him first, and warn him at any
cost. If I hadn't run every risk to come here to-day, Heaven knows what
might have happened! What do you think of the ponies, dear? They're
my own, and the sweetest! This one's Susy, that one Clarence,--but
privately, you know. Before the world and in the stables he's only
Birdie."

"But I thought you wrote to me that you called them 'Paul and
Virginie,'" said Mary doubtfully.

"I do, sometimes," said Susy calmly. "But one has to learn to suppress
one's feelings, dear!" Then quickly, "I do so hate deceit, don't you?
Tell me, don't you think deceit perfectly hateful?"

Without waiting for her friend's loyal assent, she continued rapidly:
"And he's just rolling in wealth! and educated, papa says, to the
highest degree!"

"Then," began Mary, "if he's coming with your mother's consent, and if
you haven't quarreled, and it is not broken off, I should think you'd be
just delighted."

But another quick flash from Susy's eyes dispersed these beatific
visions of the future. "Hush!" she said, with suppressed dramatic
intensity. "You know not what you say! There's an awful mystery hangs
over him. Mary Rogers," continued the young girl, approaching her small
mouth to her confidante's ear in an appalling whisper. "His father