"Oh, she's rich," Mrs. Flippin was rocking comfortably. "You would never know it, and nobody thinks of it much. But she's got money. From her grandmother. And there was something in the will about having her live out of the world as long as she could. That's why they sent her to a convent and kept her down here as much as possible. She ain't ever seemed to care for clothes. She could always have had anything she wanted, but she ain't cared. She told Mary that she had a sudden notion to have some pretty things, and she sent for them, and it was lucky for Mary that she did. She couldn't have gone to this ball, for there wasn't any time to get anything made. Mr. Flippin and I are going to buy her some nice things when she goes to Richmond. But they won't be like the things that Becky gets, of course." Madge, listening to further details of the Meredith fortunes, wondered how much of this Georgie knew. "Becky's mother died when she was five, and her father two years later," Mrs. Flippin was saying. "She might have been spoiled to death if she had been brought up as some children are. But she has spent her winters at the convent with Sister Loretto, and she's never worn much of anything but the uniform of the school. You wouldn't think that she had any money to see her, would you, Miss MacVeigh?" "No, you wouldn't," said Madge, truthfully. It was after nine o'clock--a warm night--with no sound but the ticking of the clock and the insistent hum of locusts. "Mrs. Flippin," said Madge, "I wish you'd call up Hamilton Hill and ask for Mr. Dalton, and tell him that Miss MacVeigh would like to have him come and see her if he has nothing else on hand." Mrs. Flippin looked her astonishment. "To-night?" "Oh, I am not going to receive him this way," Madge reassured her. "If he can come, I'll get nurse to dress me and make me comfy in the sitting-room." Having ascertained that Dalton would be over at once, the nurse was called, and Madge was made ready. It was a rather high-handed proceeding, and both Mrs. Flippin and the nurse stood aghast. The nurse protested. "You really ought not, Miss MacVeigh." "I love to do things that I ought not to do." "But you'll tire yourself." "If you were my Mary," said Mrs. Flippin, severely, "I wouldn't let you have your way----" "I love to have my own way, Mrs. Flippin. And--I am not your Mary"--then fearing that she had hurt the kind heart, she caught Mrs. Flippin's hand in her own and kissed it,--"but I wish I were. You're such a lovely mother." Mrs. Flippin smiled at her. "I'm as near like your mother as a hen is mother to a bluebird." Madge, robed in the mauve gown, refused to have her hair touched. "I like it in braids," and so when George came there she sat in the sitting-room, all gold and mauve--a charming picture for his sulky eyes. "Oh," she said, as he came in, in a gray sack suit, with a gray cap in his hand, "why, you aren't even dressed for dinner!"