"Good-bye!" Margaret said, her cheeks brilliant, her head awhirl.

She stood unmindful of the chilly evening air, watching the great
motor-car wheel and slip into the gloom. The rain was over; a dying
wind moaned mysteriously through the dusk. Margaret went slowly
upstairs, pinned on her hat, buttoned her long coat snugly about
her. She locked the schoolroom door, and, turning the corner, plunged
her hands into her pockets, and faced the wind bravely. Deepening
darkness and coldness were about her, but she felt surrounded by
the warmth and brightness of her dreams. She saw the brilliant
streets of a big city, the carriages and motor-cars coming and
going, the idle, lovely women in their sumptuous gowns and hats.
These things were real, near--almost attainable--to-night.

"Mrs. Carr-Boldt!" Margaret said, "the darling! I wonder if I'll
ever see her again!"



CHAPTER II

Life in the shabby, commonplace house that sheltered the Paget family
sometimes really did seem to proceed, as Margaret had suggested, in
a long chain of violent shocks, narrow escapes, and closely averted
catastrophes. No sooner was Duncan's rash pronounced not to be
scarlet fever than Robert swallowed a penny, or Beck set fire to
the dining-room waste-basket, or Dad foresaw the immediate failure
of the Weston Home Savings Bank, and the inevitable loss of his
position there. Sometimes there was a paternal explosion because
Bruce liked to murmur vaguely of "dandy chances in Manila," or because