The crowd was thickening fast, now, and Billy's eyes were alert. Children were appearing, and young women walking alone. One of these wore a bunch of violets. Billy gave her a second glance. Then she saw a pink--but it was on the coat lapel of a tall young fellow with a brown beard; so with a slight frown she looked beyond down the line. Old men came now, and old women; fleshy women, and women with small children and babies. Couples came, too--dawdling couples, plainly newly married: the men were not two steps ahead, and the women's gloves were buttoned and their furs in place. Gradually the line thinned, and soon there were left only an old man with a cane, and a young woman with three children. Yet nowhere had Billy seen a girl wearing a white carnation, and walking alone. With a deeper frown on her face Billy turned and looked about her. She thought that somewhere in the crowd she had missed Mary Jane, and that she would find her now, standing near. But there was no one standing near except the good-looking young fellow with the little pointed brown beard, who, as Billy noticed a second time, was wearing a white carnation. As she glanced toward him, their eyes met. Then, to Billy's unbounded amazement, the man advanced with uplifted hat. “I beg your pardon, but is not this--Miss Neilson?” Billy drew back with just a touch of hauteur. “Y-yes,” she murmured. “I thought so--yet I was expecting to see you with Aunt Hannah. I am M. J. Arkwright, Miss Neilson.” For a brief instant Billy stared dazedly. “You don't mean--Mary Jane?” she gasped. “I'm afraid I do.” His lips twitched. “But I thought--we were expecting--” She stopped helplessly. For one more brief instant she stared; then, suddenly, a swift change came to her face. Her eyes danced. “Oh--oh!” she chuckled. “How perfectly funny! You _have_ evened things up, after all. To think that Mary Jane should be a--” She paused and flashed almost angrily suspicious eyes into his face. “But mine _was_ 'Billy,'” she cried. “Your name isn't really--Mary Jane'?” “I am often called that.” His brown eyes twinkled, but they did not swerve from their direct gaze into her own. “But--” Billy hesitated, and turned her eyes away. She saw then that many curious glances were already being flung in her direction. The color in her cheeks deepened. With an odd little gesture she seemed to toss something aside. “Never mind,” she laughed a little hysterically. “If you'll pick up your bag, please, Mr. Mary Jane, and come with me. John and Peggy are waiting. Or--I forgot--you have a trunk, of course?” The man raised a protesting hand. “Thank you; but, Miss Neilson, really--I couldn't think of trespassing on your hospitality--now, you know.” “But we--we invited you,” stammered Billy. He shook his head. “You invited _Miss_ Mary Jane.” Billy bubbled into low laughter.