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Miss Flora laughed.

"That's just what your mother asked. Yes, he's real nice, your Aunt

Maggie says, and she likes him very much."

"But how'd she do it? How'd she happen to meet him?" demanded Jane.

"Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then he's been very nice to them. He's taken them out in his automobile, and taken them to the theater twice."

"That's because she belongs to us, of course," nodded Jane wisely.

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"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Flora. "And I think it's very kind of him."

"Pooh!" sniffed Mellicent airily. "I think he does it because he WANTS to. You never did appreciate Aunt Maggie. I'll warrant she's nicer and sweeter and—and, yes, PRETTIER than lots of those old Chicago women. Aunt Maggie looked positively HANDSOME that day she left here last July. She looked so—so absolutely happy! Probably he LIKES to take her to places. Anyhow, I'm glad she's having one good time before she dies."

"Yes, so am I, my dear. We all are," sighed Miss Flora. "Poor Maggie!"

"I only wish he'd marry her and—and give her a good time all her life," avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.

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"Marry her!" exclaimed two scornful voices.

"Well, why not? She's good enough for him," bridled Mellicent. "Aunt

Maggie's good enough for anybody!"

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"Of course she is, child!" laughed Miss Flora. "Maggie's a saint—if ever there was one."

"Yes, but I shouldn't call her a MARRYING saint," smiled Jane.

"Well, I don't know about that," frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully. "Hattie always declared there'd be a match between her and Mr. Smith, you know."

"Yes. But there wasn't one, was there?" twitted Jane. "Well, then, I shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all right, but not a marrying one—unless some one marries her now for her money, of course."