“She was Edna Browning, and Charlie Churchill’s wife. My memory is not so short that I have forgotten the girl at Iona, bruised and scratched as she was then. I recognized her almost immediately, and I wonder at her temerity in venturing to a place where she knew she would see me more or less. Why did she come,—that is, why has she taken another name than her own?” There was no use for Maude to pretend ignorance any longer, and she frankly replied: “Her coming here was my own plan. The change of name was long ago, when she first went to Rocky Point. Her uncle preferred and insisted that she bear his name, and so she joined her second to it which made her ‘Louise Overton.’ I want Roy and his mother to like her, and both, or rather Mrs. Churchill is more likely to do this if she knows her first as a stranger. Roy will like her any way; he cannot help it.” Maude had made her explanation and waited for Georgie’s reply, which was: “I think less of the girl now than I did before, and so will Roy and his mother when I tell them, as I shall.” “Tell them,” Maude repeated, her blue eyes beginning to blaze with anger; “tell them, Georgie! You certainly cannot intend anything as mean as that! If Edna wishes to remain _incog._, can you not, as a woman, respect her wishes, and keep her secret to yourself?” “No; neither is it my duty to lend myself to the deception. I do not pretend to be one of the good ones, as you do, but I am a lover of truth, and should feel that I was acting a lie every time I addressed that girl as Miss Overton, or heard her addressed as such. She has some deep-laid design in what she is doing,—some design, which I shall take immediate steps to frustrate. I shall go to Mrs. Churchill to-morrow, and tell her who the girl is she has taken into such favor.” Georgie paused here and went on brushing her glossy hair, while Maude, who had been gathering all her forces for a grand onslaught and total rout of the enemy, said calmly: “That is your decision, is it?” “Yes, that is my decision, from which nothing can turn me.” “Then, Georgie, hear me,” and Maude came close to Georgie, and looking her fully in the face, began: “You will not respect Edna Churchill’s secret, and you talk grandly of being a lover of truth and hating to act a lie. _Georgie, your whole life is a lie, and has been for years!_” Maude spoke very slowly and kept her eyes fixed upon Georgie, over whose face there crept a look of terror, and whose hands shook as they shed back the mass of hair from her forehead, where drops of perspiration were visible. In her excitement Maude had used rather stronger language than Jack’s hint could warrant, but Georgie’s manner convinced her that she could venture still further, and she continued: