III
"You are not in the habit of frequenting brilliant functions?" Stephen asked of Marjorie when they were quite alone. It was customary for the older folks to retire from the company of the younger set shortly after the dinner grace had been said. Of course grace had to be said; Mr. Allison would permit no bread to be broken at his house without first imploring benedictions from Heaven, and, when the formalities of the meal had been concluded, of returning thanks for the good things enjoyed.
"I never have attended before," answered Marjorie, smoothing out a side of her apron with her hand.
"You are quite friendly with the Shippen family, I understand."
"Oh, yes! For several years we have been united. I am invited to all their functions. Still I am not fond of society."
"And you spend your time alone?" Stephen was persistent in his questions as he sat opposite to her and studied her expression.
"Between here and the store, and perhaps with Peggy. That is about all for I seldom visit. I am hopelessly old-fashioned in some things, mother tells me, and I suppose you will say the same if I tell you more," and she looked at him slyly, with her head half-raised, her lips parted somewhat in a quizzical smile.
"Not at all! You are what I rather hoped to find you, although I did not dare to give expression to it. You can, possibly, be of some assistance to me."
"Gladly would I perform any service, however humble, for the cause of our country," Marjorie sat upright, all attention at the thought.