"Playing Bridge," I murmured sweetly, "'way off in
Philadelphia, while you, you naughty man--"

Oh, he loved that!

"Not so naughty as--as I'd like to be," he belllowed, heavily
witty. "And she isn't 'way off in Philadelphia either. She's
just round the corner at Mrs. Gates', and--what's the matter?"

"Nothing--nothing. Did she recognize me?"

"Oh, that's what scared you, is it? She didn't recognize you.
Neither did I, till I got that second glimpse of you with your
hat and jacket on. But even if she had--ho! ho! ho! I say; do you
know, you couldn't convince the Bishop and Henrietta, if you'd
talk till doomsday, that that red coat and hat we advertised
weren't taken by a little girl that was daffy. Fact; I swear it!
They admit you took the coat, you little witch, but it was when
you were out of your mind--of course--of course! `The very fact
that she left the coat behind her and took nothing else from the
house shows a mind diseased,' insisted Henrietta. Of course--of
course! `And her coming for no reason at all to your house,' adds
the Bishop. . . . Say, what was the reason?"

Maggie, I'll tell you a hard thing: it isn't when people think
worse of you than you are, but better, that you feel most
uncomfortable. I got pale and sick inside of me at the thought of
my poor little Bishop. I loved him for believing me straight
and--