“What a question, dear Mrs. Fordyce! You have done everything for my comfort,” and Marjorie looked gratefully at the older woman. “I have seldom met with such consideration and kindness. You—you are not dissatisfied with me?” in quick alarm.
“No, indeed.” Mrs. Fordyce’s tone was flattering in its sincerity, and Marjorie’s fears were allayed. “I can’t get on without you; in fact, I am afraid I’m putting too much upon you. You are so dependable I forget your youth.”
Marjorie’s laugh was followed by an unconscious sigh. “Youth with me is a thing of the past; I rival Methuselah,” she said lightly. “Don’t worry about me, dear Mrs. Fordyce; I can never do enough to repay your kindness. My work here is most congenial.”
“Come along, Marjorie,” called Janet from the hall.
“Go, my dear,” Mrs. Fordyce impulsively kissed Marjorie. “Don’t keep my husband waiting; he’ll never forgive you.”
Mrs. Fordyce had been by herself but a scant ten minutes when the hall door again opened and Duncan walked in.
“Where’s everybody?” he demanded, seating himself by her.
“Your father had an engagement at the Riding and Hunt Club.” She inspected the clock. “He should be there now.”
“And what are the others doing?”
“Janet and Marjorie? Oh, they are out shopping for Christmas.”