and be introduced. She's really nicer than she looks, Mrs. Petticoat."

"Indeed I'm not," Marigold Leathersham cried gaily, "I couldn't be--nobody
could be!"

She came running--a beautiful, slim young woman, with a wealth of expensive
looking gold hair, white and gold teeth that broke into a lavish smile. Her
voice was rich and though she looked above, away from and through Warble,
yet she saw her.

"So glad to welcome you, you pretty baby," she chirruped. "You're going to
love us all, aren't you?"

"Yop," said Warble, and smiled her engaging smile.

"You bet she'll love us," declared Leathersham, "she'll make the world go
round! Hello, Little One," he turned to pat the cheek of a white-haired,
red-faced old lady, who hawk-eyed and hawk-nosed, stood by, listening in.
This, Mrs. Petticoat, is our Lady Bountiful, Mrs. Charity Givens--noted for
her generosity. She ostentatiously heads all Donation Lists, and she's
going to start a rest cure where your husband's unsuccessful cases may die
in peace. And here's one of the cases. Hello, Iva Payne!"

"Hello," languidly responded a girl like a long pale lily--a Burne-Jones
type, who sometimes carried around a small stained-glass window to rest her
head against.

"Are you really Bill's wife?" she asked, a little disinterestedly, of
Warble.