“Didn’t I what?” inquired Marjorie, entering from the dining-room where she had been putting the finishing touches to the tea-table.
“Did you know our friend here,” waving his hand toward Duncan, “is a hardy son of toil?”
Marjorie laughed. “Janet told me, Mr. Fordyce, that you have explored....”
“I have ambled about a bit,” admitted Duncan hastily. “But I am not an explorer, only a lawyer.”
“Indeed? I had no idea of it!” answered Marjorie. “Aunt Yvonett, the eggnog is ready.”
“Will thee come, friend, and drink a kindly glass with me?” asked the Quakeress, laying her hand on Duncan’s arm.
“Gladly,” and he led her into the dining-room, and to her high-back chair. Barnard detained Marjorie as she was about to follow her aunt.
“Have you no word of greeting for me?” he pleaded, lowering his voice.
“Hush!” she cautioned. “Why did you bring Mr. Fordyce here?”
Barnard glanced at her flushed cheeks in some surprise. “We were walking together, and I suddenly hungered for a sight of you. I then recollected having heard you say that you were coming here to be with your aunt this afternoon, so I suggested dropping in.”