The Marshall name was Aunt Caroline's shield and buckler at all times, and since Bill's party she had come to regard it as a password of potent magic.
Mary felt suddenly weak, but she fought to avoid disclosure of the fact. Mrs. Rokeby-Jones! What could she say? Already, in the case of Bill's party, threads of acquaintanceship that were so tenuous as scarcely to be threads at all had been called upon to bear the strain of invitations, and, much to her astonishment, they had borne the strain. Thereby emboldened, Aunt Caroline was now seeking to bridge new gulfs. But why did she have to pick Mrs. Rokeby-Jones? Was it because—— Mary tried to put from her mind the unworthy suspicion that Aunt Caroline was still delving as to the facts concerning what they said about the elder daughter. But whatever the motive, whether it be hidden or wholly on the surface, booted little to Mary. It was an impossible proposal.
"She will recall you, of course," Aunt Caroline was saying. "And I am sure that she knows the Marshalls. In fact, I have an impression that at one time William's mother——"
"But are you sure she hasn't gone to Newport?" asked Mary, desperately.
"I saw her name in the paper only this morning, my dear. She was entertaining last night at the theater."
Mary began wadding a handkerchief.
"And perhaps she could suggest somebody else," added Aunt Caroline. "At any rate, suppose you get in touch with her and let me know what she says."
Mary went up-stairs to nurse her misery. It was out of the question to refuse, yet she dreaded to obey. She could not call upon Mrs. Rokeby-Jones; even a blind person could tell the difference between Nell Norcross and Mary Wayne. She could not get Nell to go, for Nell was still overcome by her adventures at the party. She could not send a letter, because the writing would betray her. She could telephone, perhaps; but would Mrs. Rokeby-Jones detect a strange voice? And even if she succeeded in imposture over the wire, how was she to approach the matter of an invitation to the home of a stranger?
After much anguished thought, she decided upon the telephone.
"But even if she consents," murmured Mary, "I'll never dare meet her face to face."