"Surely you must have heard the story if you left New York only a few weeks ago."
"I don't know what story you refer to," responded Irma with dignity. "Marion is travelling with my uncle and aunt. He is a relation of theirs."
"He is in your party? Then you must have heard——"
But at that moment the porter brought a message summoning Madge Gregg to get ready at once for a train that would start in half an hour for Naples. This unexpected departure put all thoughts of Marion Horton out of Madge's mind. She gathered up her writing materials, bade Irma good-by, expressing the hope that they might meet again.
"What can the story be?" thought Irma. "Marion is sometimes queer, and yet—I do not believe he has done anything wrong." Still she felt that for the present it would be wiser not to question her uncle and aunt about Marion. Sometime they would tell her what they wished her to know.
After déjeuner the rain ceased, and by three o'clock the sun was shining.
"This was a fortunate storm that kept us here, for they say that up there on the hills there's an interesting old monastery, such as we may not see again. The carriage will be here in ten minutes, so run and get your bonnet and shawl, as they used to say in old novels," said Uncle Jim.
Soon they were on their way to the monastery, Uncle Jim, Aunt Caroline, and Irma.
"Aren't you coming with us?" Aunt Caroline had asked Marion, as they started.