“Yes, wasn’t it,” went on Miss Rebekah, addressing him directly. “I knew you would understand. Poor Cousin Margaret was in torment until she became delirious and later lapsed into a comatose condition. I saw Admiral Lawrence for a few minutes; he inquired particularly for you, Marjorie, and desired to know where you could be found quickly.” “Oh!” A faint, very faint inflection of fear in the monosyllable caught Duncan’s quick ear, and he darted a keen look at Marjorie, but she was crumbling the end of her sandwich between her fingers, and he learned nothing from her blank expression. “I suppose he wanted to get you to answer notes, and attend to things generally,” continued Miss Rebekah, pouring out a cup of tea from the pot Minerva set before her. “I told the Admiral where you were, Marjorie, and how kind Mrs. Fordyce has been to you. I went quite into details,” she smiled at Duncan. “I even mentioned some of the things Marjorie told me about you....” “Cousin Becky,” Marjorie looked as angry as she felt. “You certainly are an----” catching her aunt’s warning look, she held back the words “unmitigated nuisance” with which she had intended finishing her sentence. “Well, my dear, I went into particulars because it took the Admiral’s mind away from his sorrow,” continued Miss Rebekah, her air of self-congratulation upon her tact causing Duncan to smile covertly. “And he was very interested in hearing all about your good fortune, Marjorie, and said he was sorry Mrs. Fordyce hadn’t written him to ask about you----” Marjorie set down her eggnog glass with a thud, she had drunk the delicious concoction at a gulp, and was grateful for the warmth which stole through her chilled body. “How is thy good mother?” asked Madame Yvonett, addressing Duncan. “I hoped that she would come in this afternoon and help me keep the Yuletide; thee sees, this is the only day I indulge in such dissipation,” touching the punch bowl. “If mother went anywhere, I know she would come to you, Madame Yvonett; but she insists on being a recluse.” Barnard, conversing with Miss Rebekah, gave part of his attention to Duncan’s remarks. Joe Calhoun-Cooper’s confidences were fresh in his memory. “I wish you could induce mother to see more of her friends.” “It is not good for any of us to live within ourselves,” acknowledged the gentle Quakeress. “A little natural diversion fits us for the ills of life. But thy mother lives so for others, she is never alone.” “You are right,” answered Duncan heartily. “But of late years I have been so little with my family, I perhaps notice mother’s withdrawal more than my father and sister.” “I wonder what has become of Janet,” chimed in Marjorie, looking with some uneasiness at Duncan. “She said she would join me here at five o’clock.” “I left her reading in the library.” Duncan looked at his watch. “It is after six.”