"But opposition is exactly what we must avoid," said Mary. "We mustn't antagonize—and yet we must stop it. Oh, dear! It seems a shame for me to be plotting this way against your aunt; she's been so wonderful to me. But there's no way to make her see that a perfect stranger is hardly likely to accept an invitation to a yachting party. Of course, your aunt is relying on the Marshall name." Bill nodded.
"And names don't get you anywhere; except, perhaps, in society. I knew a youngster who called himself Young John L. He kept at it for quite a while, but the only thing he was ever any good at was lying on his back in the middle of the ring and listening to a man count ten. That's all his name ever got him."
"But to get back to Mrs. Rokeby-Jones," said Mary, with a slight frown. "We've got to appear to want her, but we mustn't have her."
"We won't; don't you worry. We'll count her out or claim a foul. We'll leave her on the string-piece, if it comes to the worst."
"It isn't quite so simple as that, Mr. Marshall. Do you know what your aunt did to-day? She wrote her a note—personally."
"I know it," said Bill.
"She told you?"
"No; but here's the note."
He delved into a pocket and produced an envelope. Mary's eyes became round.
"Why, how in the world——"