``Uncle William, would she have got Uncle
Cyril if Aunt Marie hadn't nabbed him first?''

``Kate!'' The word was a chorus of dismay
this time.

Mrs. Hartwell struggled to her feet.

``Come, come, Kate, we must go up-stairs--to
bed,'' she stammered.

The little girl drew back indignantly.

``To bed? Why, mama, I haven't had my
supper yet!''

``What? Oh, sure enough--the lights! I
forgot. Well, then, come up--to change your
dress,'' finished Mrs. Hartwell, as with a despairing
look and gesture she led her young daughter
from the room.



CHAPTER XIV

M. J. MAKES ANOTHER MOVE