That night, in a cramped little room in one of the mill boarding-houses, a square-jawed, gray-eyed young man received a note that sent the blood in a tide of red to his face, and made his hands shake until the paper in his long, sinewy fingers fluttered like an aspen leaf in a breeze. Yet the note was very simple. It read: "Will you come, please, to see me to-morrow night? I want to ask some questions about the children at the mills." And it was signed, "Margaret Kendall." CHAPTER XXVII With a relief which she did not attempt to hide from herself, Margaret saw the male members of the family at Hilcrest leave early the next morning on a trip from which they could not return until the next day; and with a reluctance which she could not hide from either herself or Mrs. Merideth, she said that afternoon: "Mr. McGinnis is coming to see me this evening, Aunt Della. I sent for him. You know I am interested in the children at the mills, and I wanted to ask him some questions." Mrs. Merideth was dumb with dismay. For some days Margaret's apparent inactivity had lulled her into a feeling of security. And now, with her brothers away, the blow which they had so dreaded for weeks had fallen--McGinnis was coming. Summoning all her strength, Mrs. Merideth finally managed to murmur a faint remonstrance that Margaret should trouble herself over a matter that could not be helped; then with an earnest request that Margaret should not commit herself to any foolish promises, she fled to her own room, fearful lest, in her perturbation, she should say something which she would afterward regret. When Miss Kendall came down-stairs at eight o'clock that night she found waiting for her in the drawing-room--into which McGinnis had been shown by her express orders--a young man whose dress, attitude, and expression radiated impersonality and business, in spite of his sumptuous surroundings. In directing that the young man should be shown into the drawing-room instead of into the more informal library or living-room, Margaret had vaguely intended to convey to him the impression that he was a highly-prized friend, and as such was entitled to all honor; but she had scarcely looked into the cold gray eyes, or touched the half-reluctantly extended fingers before she knew that all such efforts had been without avail. The young man had not come to pay a visit: he was an employee who had obeyed the command of one in authority. McGinnis stood just inside the door, hat in hand. His face was white, and his jaw stern-set. His manner was quiet, and his voice when he spoke was steady. There was nothing about him to tell the girl--who was vainly trying to thaw the stiff frigidity of his reserve--that he had spent all day and half the night in lashing himself into just this manner that so displeased her. "You sent for me?" he asked quietly.