"They didn't know Mr. Ruston was coming."
"Didn't they?" smiled Mrs. Dennison. "And has Adela forgiven you? Oh, you know, the poor boy is a friend of hers, as he is of mine."
"We didn't talk about it."
"And you don't want to? Very well, we won't. See, here's a long letter—it's very heavy, at least—from Harry. I must read it afterwards."
"Perhaps it's to say he can come sooner."
"I expect not," said Mrs. Dennison, and she opened the letter. "No; a fortnight hence at the soonest," she announced, after reading a few lines.
Marjory was both looking and listening closely, but she detected neither disappointment nor relief.
"He's seen Tom Loring! Oh, and Tom sends me his best remembrances. Poor Tom! Marjory, does Adela talk about Mr. Loring?"
"She mentioned him once."
"She thinks it was all my fault," laughed Mrs. Dennison. "A woman always thinks it's a woman's fault; at least, that's our natural tendency, though we're being taught to overcome it. Marjory, you look dull! It will be livelier for you when your brother and Mr. Ruston come."