"Isn't Elsie sweet? I really think she has the most lovable, forgiving disposition I have ever known."
CHAPTER XVII
BEVERLY SINGS "MANDALAY"
It was a stormy December afternoon, about ten days later, and Marjorie was alone in her room preparing her lessons for the next day. Elsie had gone shopping with her mother, and Hortense had been sent on an errand. Marjorie was aroused from the intricacies of a difficult mathematical problem by a ring at the bell, and on going to the door, found Beverly Randolph standing on the threshold.
It was the first time the two had been alone together since the evening of the Initiation, and in spite of herself, Marjorie felt her cheeks growing hot as she asked the visitor to come in. But Beverly had no intention of referring to unpleasant bygones.
"I'm so glad to find you at home," he said, with his pleasant smile and in the voice that always put people at their ease. "My mother sent me to ask if you would come and sit with her for a while this afternoon, provided you have nothing more important to do. She is laid up with a cold, and is feeling rather blue and forlorn."
"I should love to come," said Marjorie, her face brightening at the prospect. "I was afraid your mother might not be well when I didn't see her at luncheon. I hope she isn't really ill."
"Oh, no; nothing but a disagreeable cold, that has kept her in the house for the past two days. I'm glad you can come, for I'm sure it will cheer her up."