“Dear Miss Langdon:
I had expected to make your acquaintance before this date, but moving into my new home has occupied all my time. Can you come and take tea with me this afternoon at five o’clock? I am an old school friend of your mother’s, and as such I hope you will overlook the informality of my invitation. Trusting that I shall see you later, believe me,
Sincerely yours,
Wednesday.
Flora Fordyce.”
“It must be Janet Fordyce’s mother,” added Marjorie. “They have bought the Martin house. Who was Mrs. Calderon Fordyce before her marriage, Aunt Yvonett?”
Madame Yvonett shook her head. “I cannot tell thee. I was abroad when thy mother was a schoolgirl, and knew none of her classmates. Will thee accept Mrs. Fordyce’s invitation?”
“Of course. Cousin Rebekah’s train arrives at three-thirty; I will have plenty of time to meet her and bring her here first. I must answer Mrs. Fordyce’s note,” and pushing back her chair she hastened into the parlor which was fitted up as a living-room. She was sealing her note when Tom Nichols joined her.
“Let me give it to the chauffeur,” he exclaimed, taking the envelope from her. “I’ll come right back.”
Marjorie was still sitting before the mahogany desk when Tom returned. “May I smoke?” he inquired, pulling out his cigarette-case.