"I wonder if you belong in my car," said Marjorie, by way of
opening the conversation.

"I don't know," said the other child; "our seats are in the car
just back of this."

"We are two cars back," said Marjorie, "but perhaps your mother
will let you come into my car a while. I have my kitten with me."

"Where is it?" asked the other little girl.

"I had to leave it with the porter while we came to luncheon. Oh,
she's the loveliest kitten you ever saw, and her name is Puff.
What's your name?"

"My name is Stella Martin. What's yours?"

"My real name is Marjorie Maynard. But I'm almost always called
Midge or Mops or some name like that. We all have nicknames at
home; don't you?"

"No, because you see I haven't any brothers or sisters. Mother
always calls me Stella."

"Well, let's go and ask her if you can't come into my car for a
while. My mother will look after you, and then you can see the
kitten."

After some courteous words of explanation between the two mothers,