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 "I'd rather not tell you now," said Peggy, blushing. "Wait a bit."

But Halsey only took a firmer grip upon her arm and turned her about so he oould look into her face.

"I think I know what it was, Margaret," he said tenderly. "I often used to catch Uncle Hillery watching us slyly out of the corner of his eye when I came home from college that last year. I think the dear old man had a romance fixed up between us."

Peggy hung her head but said nothing.

"Wasn't that it, Margaret?"

"Perhaps," whispered the girl.

"I thought so," cried Halsey. "Do you remember, Margaret, that you told me you loved me, that night when you thought the guerrillas were going to get me!"

"Yes, yes," faltered the girl. "But that was not fair, you made me. I wanted you to hurry."

"But you said it," persisted Halsey, "and you are looking it now. Peggy, when Dorothy Perkins has garlanded Eaton Manor with festoons of glory, and all the