“So late!” Barnard rose in some haste. “I am afraid I shall have to leave as I am dining with friends at Chevy Chase, and I have barely time to dress and get there. Madame Yvonett, it is always such a pleasure to see you; I hope you will let me come again soon.” “Thee is very welcome,” responded Madame Yvonett kindly, and with a quick word of farewell to the others, Barnard took his departure. As the front door banged shut, Marjorie lifted her furs and coat from the chair where she had thrown them. “I really must go,” she said, and kissing her aunt affectionately, she whispered low, “don’t let Cousin Becky torment the life out of you.” “Tut, child, she is one of my diversions,” whispered back Madame Yvonett placidly. “Never take Becky seriously, nor any other troubles,” glancing anxiously at the dark circles under Marjorie’s eyes. “God guard thee in His Holy care,” she murmured, and held Marjorie close, then pushed her gently from her. “Thee must not tarry. Friend Fordyce,” as Duncan advanced to bid her good-night, “thy coming has given me much pleasure....” “May I come again?” “Thee may indeed,” with a cordiality that matched his eagerness. “Give this sprig of mistletoe,” breaking off a piece from the small branch suspended from the newel post, “to thy mother with the season’s greetings.” “Thank you,” Duncan pocketed the tiny sprig with care, and shaking hands with Miss Rebekah, who hovered in the background, he returned to Marjorie’s side. “Shall we walk or ride?” he asked, as the door closed behind them. “Have we time to walk?” “Plenty,” and with a strange, shy reluctance Marjorie accompanied him across Franklin Square and up Fourteenth Street to Massachusetts Avenue. “Where did you get your seven-league boots?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence. “One has to have them to keep up with you,” she retorted. “I beg your pardon,” slacking his pace. “I did not realize----” he again relapsed into silence, and Marjorie’s thoughts flew swiftly to Janet and the problems which confronted her. After the discovery of the doilies she had spent the early hours of the morning trying to devise some plan to assist Janet; at all hazards the girl must be protected against her curious craze, but how--how? Madame Yvonett was the only one she could confide in, and she had gone there early that afternoon hoping to see her aunt alone, but old friends had called, and the time had passed without giving her an opportunity to ask her advice. A whisper of kleptomania, and Janet’s fair name would be bandied from door to door in scandal-loving Washington. “Have you spent all your life in this city?” asked Duncan, with such abruptness that Marjorie started perceptibly.