"Isn't your uncle a dear?" remarked Marjorie to Beverly, as her friend was taking her upstairs to the Carletons' apartment. "He's a brick," was the young man's hearty rejoinder. "I'm glad you like him, for I know he likes you. He doesn't take to everybody, but he's been awfully good to Mother and me, and he was very fond of my little sister. Here's your door, so I'll say good-night. Hasn't it been a jolly day?" "It has been one of the loveliest days I've ever had," said Marjorie earnestly. "I'm sorry Aunt Julia thought I might have been troublesome, but your mother said I wasn't." "Troublesome! I should say not. Don't bother about what your aunt says; she doesn't know anything about it, and it's all nonsense, you know." Elsie had already gone to bed, and Mr. Carleton had telegraphed that he was taking the midnight train from Washington, and would not reach home till the following morning. But Aunt Julia was still up and dressed, and awaiting her niece's return. "My dear child, how late you are," was the rather reproachful greeting. "Do you know it is nearly half-past ten? Elsie went to bed more than an hour ago; she was quite worn out, poor child, as indeed I am myself, but I couldn't make up my mind to undress until I knew you were safely at home. I am horribly afraid of those automobiles." "I'm so sorry you worried about me, Aunt Julia," said Marjorie, regretfully. "I think we were quite safe, though; Dr. Randolph's chauffeur seems very careful, and they don't like going fast. I wasn't a bit frightened." "No, I don't suppose you were; children seldom realize danger. Sit down, Marjorie; I want to have a little talk with you before you go to your room." Marjorie complied, drawing a chair close to the fire, and stretching her cold hands out to the welcome blaze. She was longing to tell all about the day's pleasures, and was glad of the prospect of a little chat with Aunt Julia before going to bed. "Now my dear," began Mrs. Carleton, speaking fast and rather nervously, "I don't want you to let what I am going to say make you unhappy. I am not in the least displeased with you, because I am sure you had no intention of doing anything wrong; I have told Elsie so. But, Marjorie dear, it is not quite the proper thing for a girl of your age to accept invitations from strangers without first consulting the people under whose care she has been placed." "Oh, Aunt Julia," cried Marjorie, clasping her hands in dismay, while all the brightness died suddenly out of her face, "I am so sorry! I had no idea you would object to my going with the Randolphs; I thought you would be pleased because you were so sorry about leaving me at home. Mrs. Randolph said she was sure you wouldn't mind." Mrs. Carleton moved uneasily in her chair, and her eyes did not meet Marjorie's honest, astonished gaze.