upset him terribly. Isn't it a pity you have so many murders there? And lynchings, and all?"
"They don't have lynchings in New York, Meggie," corrected Uncle Ernest.
"Oh, I forgot. It's Chicago, isn't it?"
Eden spoke for almost the first time. "Never met so many orderly people in my life as I met in New York."
"How nice," said Meg. "I do like order, but I find it so hard to keep, with servants' wages high, and so many boys about, and Granny requiring a good deal of waiting on."
The sound of her own name must have penetrated Mrs. Whiteoak's consciousness. She wobbled a moment as though she were about to fall, then righted herself and raised her still handsome, chiseled nose from its horizontal position and looked about. Her eyes, blurred by sleep, did not at once perceive Alayne.
"Dinner," she observed. "I want my dinner."
"Here are Eden and Alayne," said Ernest, bending over her.
"Better come over to her," suggested Nicholas.
"She will be so glad," said Meg.
Eden took Alayne's hand and led her to his grandmother. The old lady peered at them unseeingly for a moment; then her gaze brightened. She clutched Eden to her and gave him a loud, hearty kiss.
"Eden," she said. "Well, well, so you're back. Where's your bride?"
Eden put Alayne forward, and she was enfolded in an embrace of surprising strength. Sharp bristles scratched her cheek, and a kiss was planted on her mouth.
"Pretty thing," said Grandmother, holding her off to look at her. "You're a very pretty thing. I'm glad you've come. Where's Boney, now?" She released Alayne and looked around sharply for the parrot. At
