"Eggert?" she said, tentatively. "He's got to go, too, then?"
"No, I make an exception of Eggert. But Wesson—I simply can't have him here. Either he must go, or I shall."
We had passed the coffee hour, forgetting it in the pleasure of the bath and the labor of dressing. The regular breakfast was now announced. I determined to be as agreeable to Wesson as I could, but I did not think Eggert need to have placed him on the other side of Marjorie, next to her. Still, how was he to know?
"I have been talking with our host about coming out here for awhile," said Wesson, as we were breakfasting. "It is ever so much pleasanter than in the town."
He must have seen, in spite of my efforts, that I did not enthuse over the idea, for all I could say was "Ah," and wait for him to proceed.
"I hardly think I will do it, though," Wesson went on to say, eyeing me narrowly. "I have a very comfortable room at the hotel. If you don't mind my coming out for a stroll occasionally"—he looked alternately at Miss May and at me—"I think it would help me get over my lonesomeness."
Marjorie did not wait to consult me, but said she was sure he would always be welcome. She added that some literary work she and I had to do would keep us very busy for the present. To my joy, Wesson settled his plans on the spot, as he had outlined them. We were to be left alone, after all.
Soon after rising from the table Wesson started back to town. I hoped as I saw his form disappear that he did not think I had been discourteous in not endorsing his scheme to make my life a burden.
"Now," said Marjorie, brightly, as he vanished through the gate, "let us get to work. You can't imagine how happy I shall be to find myself of use after this long vacation."
I got out the memoranda required, from the bottom of a trunk, and arranged the writing machine on a little "dressmaker's table" which I had brought, folded up in a tray. It was exactly the right height, and took up hardly more room than a chess board—I mean the table, of course. For an hour I tried to put the genealogy in shape, and then threw it up with an exclamation of disgust.