"It seems a miracle," said the strange lady, in a low tone, when she and Margaret were alone again with the child. "But I don't believe she was scratched!" "I don't think so," Margaret agreed. "Mother says no child who can cry is very badly hurt." "They made such a horrible noise," said the other, sighing wearily. She passed a white hand, with one or two blazing great stones upon it, across her forehead. Margaret had leisure now to notice that by all signs this was a very great lady indeed. The quality of her furs, the glimpse of her gown that the loosened coat showed, her rings, and most of all the tones of her voice, the authority of her manner, the well-groomed hair and skin and hands, all marked the thoroughbred. "Do you know that you managed that situation very cleverly just now?" said the lady, with a keen glance that made Margaret color. "One has such a dread of the crowd, just public sentiment, you know. Some odious bystander calls the police, they crowd against your driver, perhaps a brick gets thrown. We had an experience in England once--" She paused, then interrupted herself. "But I don't know your name?" she said brightly. Margaret supplied it, was led to talk a little of her own people. "Seven of you, eh? Seven's too many," said the visitor, with the assurance that Margaret was to learn characterized her. "I've two myself, two girls," she went on. "I wanted a boy, but they're nice girls. And you've six brothers and sisters? Are they all as handsome as you and this Teddy of yours? And why do you like teaching?" "Why do I like it?" Margaret said, enjoying these confidences and the unusual experience of sitting idle in mid-afternoon. "I don't, I hate it." "I see. But then why don't you come down to New York, and do something else?" the other woman asked. "I'm needed at home, and I don't know any one there," Margaret said simply. "I see," the lady said again thoughtfully. There was a pause. Then the same speaker said reminiscently, "I taught school once for three months when I was a girl, to show my father I could support myself." "I've taught for four years," Margaret said. "Well, if you ever want to try something else,--there are such lots of fascinating things a girl can do now!--be sure you come and see me about it," the stranger said. "I am Mrs. Carr-Boldt, of New York." Margaret's amazed eyes flashed to Mrs. Carr-Boldt's face; her cheeks crimsoned. "Mrs. Carr-Boldt!" she echoed blankly. "Why not?" smiled the lady, not at all displeased. "Why," stammered Margaret, laughing and rosy, "why, nothing--only I never dreamed who you were!" she finished, a little confused. And indeed it never afterward seemed to her anything short of a miracle that brought the New York society woman--famed on two continents and from ocean to ocean for her jewels, her entertainments, her gowns, her establishments--into a Weston schoolroom, and into Margaret Paget's life. "I was on my way to New York now," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt.