"Yes, it really and truly is," laughed Marjorie. "I've been trying to find you all the afternoon, but there was such a crowd. I knew you'd be surprised." "Surprised!" echoed Elsie, looking from Marjorie to her tall companion, "I was never so surprised in my life. But how did it happen--who brought you?" "Mr. Randolph and his mother," said Marjorie, "wasn't it perfectly lovely of them?" And she proceeded to give her aunt and cousin an account of recent events. "I am sure it was extremely kind of Mrs. Randolph," Mrs. Carleton said, when Marjorie had finished her story. "I only hope this little girl hasn't been a trouble to your mother, Mr. Randolph." "Indeed she hasn't," declared Beverly, not without some indignation in his tone. "We've had a splendid time, haven't we, Marjorie?" To which Marjorie, who felt suddenly as if a pail of ice water had been dashed over her, answered rather meekly:-- "It was beautiful. I never had such a good time in my life." "I am afraid that we must hurry along, Mrs. Carleton," said Beverly. "My mother and uncle have gone ahead, and will be waiting for us at the entrance. Don't worry about Marjorie; we'll take good care of her, and bring her home safely. We may be a little late, as my uncle doesn't like to run his car fast after dark." "Oh, I shall not worry," said Mrs. Carleton, with her sweetest smile. "I know Marjorie is in excellent hands, and between ourselves, I think she is a very fortunate little girl." Marjorie was rather silent during the long ride back to New York that evening. Mrs. Randolph and the doctor thought she was tired after all the excitement of the day, and kindly left her alone, but Beverly was of a different opinion, and his feelings towards Marjorie's aunt and cousin were not of the kindest. "I suppose your aunt was very much surprised to see you," Mrs. Randolph said kindly, merely for the sake of conversation. "Very much indeed," said Marjorie, in a tone that was not altogether steady. "Oh, Mrs. Randolph, I do hope I haven't been a trouble to you." "A trouble! My dear child, what nonsense. It has been perfectly delightful to have you with us, and you have added greatly to our pleasure. I hope we may have many more little trips together before the winter is over. You know I am very fond of little girls." Marjorie was much relieved, but her heart was not as light as it had been all day. "Be sure to remember me to your father when you write," were Dr. Randolph's parting words to Marjorie, as they drew up before the big hotel at ten o'clock that night. "Tell him he mustn't forget to look me up when he comes to New York." "Indeed I will," promised Marjorie; "he will be so interested. I don't suppose--" with sudden eagerness--"that you ever go to Arizona?" "I have never been there as yet, but nobody knows what may happen. If I ever go to Arizona, though, I shall certainly call on my old college friend, Donald Graham."