“So good of you to call,” she cooed. “Pauline, dear, you know Miss Langdon. Come and sit by me, Miss Janet, and tell me of all your gay doings. Joe will be so sorry to have missed you.” “We caught a vanishing glimpse of him as we drove up to the door,” Janet loosened her furs, for the room was uncomfortably warm. “Are you going to the Charity Ball on Monday evening?” “Yes, we have taken a box. Can’t you come with us?” added Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper hospitably. “Thanks very much, but I believe father has secured a box also,” Janet smiled prettily upon her hostess while her hand played nervously with the silver ornaments on the tea-table. “I think it’s awfully kind of you and your daughter to be so sweet to me, a newcomer.” Marjorie, sitting some distance from Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper and Janet, watched them anxiously, and ignored Pauline’s decidedly cool manner and curt speech. They talked on uninteresting topics for some time, and Marjorie was on the point of rising to leave when she heard Janet accept Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s offer of a cup of tea. She had neglected to warn Janet before entering that they must make their visit a short one, as their calling list that afternoon was exceedingly long. There was nothing for it but to wait until Janet had swallowed her exceedingly hot cup of tea, which the butler had just brought in, and concealing her impatience, she surrendered herself to the inevitable. “So sorry you had to leave the Walbridge dance,” said Pauline, as conversation languished. “Miss Fordyce tells me you are subject to--eh--headaches, isn’t it?” “Headaches of the very worst kind,” acknowledged Marjorie. Her eyes roved about the room, which she had known so well when her aunt had owned the house; even some of the furniture, many pieces of which had been sold with the house, were still in use in the drawing-room, and she had much ado to keep back a rush of tears at the recollections their presence gave her. “I am told headaches are the bane of existence as one advances in years,” said Pauline sweetly. “Why, father!” as a tall man entered the room. “What brings you home at this hour?” “A moment’s leisure,” he replied. “How do you do, Miss Fordyce,” shaking hands cordially with Janet, and turning toward Marjorie. There was a moment’s awkward pause, then Pauline remembered her manners. “Miss Langdon, father.” Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper stepped forward and held out his hand as Marjorie rose and advanced to meet him, “Miss Marjorie Langdon?” he inquired, and she wondered faintly at the concentration of his gaze. “Yes,” she answered, and her large hazel-gray eyes smiled back at him with friendly interest. How came so distinguished looking a man to have such an impossible family? “If I am not mistaken, you are related to Madame Yvonett, are you not?” he asked, and again his keen scrutiny swept over her. “She is my great-aunt.”