"What do you think?" she cried, in a voice that sounded strangely shrill and unmusical in her ears. "It's from Robert--Robert Hillyer--Papa's good friend--and mine. He wants to come up and see me--he's in Denver--on business. He wants to come up--he says--just for a day or two--do you mind--if I ask him?" "Of course, dear!" cried Claire, with enthusiasm. "Sure!" seconded Seth. "Tell him he's very welcome." "I knew you'd say that!" said Marion excitedly. "So--the letter--it's all ready. Can it go out--the stage goes to-morrow, doesn't it?" "Yes," replied Huntington. "I'll take it down in the morning--before you're up." "Please!" She stood a moment, smiling at them. Then her eyes wandered aimlessly around the room. She must do something quick, or she would go to pieces. She saw the piano, and fairly ran to it. Crash! went the chords. Rippling and tumbling on one another came the notes under her nervous fingers. Out of the jumble of unrelated sounds presently emerged a gay and sparkling melody; and then a gayer one; and after that a rollicking song from one of the latest musical comedies. There followed two of the sauciest, most irresponsible tunes that ever made a vaudeville success. She played with abandon, a kind of reckless fury, sitting erect, with her head flung back, an insouciant smile flickering about her lips, her lithe body swaying with the music. Then suddenly, in the midst of a tune, she stopped, arose, faced Seth and Claire with flaming cheeks and eyes unnaturally bright. "Great, Marion!" cried Seth, slapping his thigh. "Go on, please!" But Claire had seen what Huntington had not. She turned to him swiftly, with a quick command, as if she had suddenly remembered something. "I've clean forgot that pie, Seth. Go to the cave and bring me some apples. Quick, now!" He sensed something a little queer in that order, which would have been very natural and pleasing at any other time, but he did not stop to question. Claire waited until the door had closed behind him, then ran to Marion, with anxiety pictured in her face. "What is it, Marion?" she exclaimed. "Oh, Claire, Claire!" cried Marion, breaking. "I'm so--so--unhappy!" Then she flung herself into Claire's arms, weeping without restraint. CHAPTER XII SUNNYSIDES Marion was not alone in her misery; but knowledge of this, had it by any chance come to her, would not have eased her heart, though it might indeed have hardened it a little against more suffering to come.