“Yes, do that,” cried Marion. “I know we owe this good luck to her. I want to tell her how much I love her for it.”
“Well, if you insist on staying alone,” said Ben reluctantly, “I’ll bring Miss Elsie to-morrow, but I don’t like your being here without Aunt Cindy to-night.”
“Oh, we’re all right!” laughed Marion, “but what I want to know is what you are doing out so late every night since you’ve come home, and where you were gone for the past week?”
“Important business,” he answered soberly.
“Business—I expect!” she cried. “Look here, Ben Cameron, have you another girl somewhere you’re flirting with?”
“Yes,” he answered slowly, coming closer and his voice dropping to a whisper, “and her name is Death.”
“Why, Ben!” Marion gasped, placing her trembling hand unconsciously on his arm, a faint flush mantling her cheek and leaving it white.
“What do you mean?” asked the mother in low tones.
“Nothing that I can explain. I only wish to warn you both never to ask me such questions before any one.”
“Forgive me,” said Marion, with a tremor. “I didn’t think it serious.”