"Indeed I didn't mean to neglect you," she said, eagerly, "but—but you see I have had a good deal to do since I came home; school began on Monday."
"I understand, dear," said Mrs. Randolph, smiling, "and I am not blaming you in the least, but I have missed you very much."
"You have had Mrs. Patterson," said Marjorie, as she took the seat her friend indicated beside her on the sofa.
"Oh, yes, and she has been a great comfort, for I have missed Beverly terribly. He and the doctor will be at home this afternoon, you know."
"Yes," said Marjorie; "Mrs. Patterson told us at luncheon. She said you had a headache; I hope it's better."
"Much better, thank you, dear. I didn't come down to luncheon because I wanted to be quite bright and well this evening when Beverly is here. This is always a rather sad day for me; it is my little Barbara's birthday."
Marjorie's heart gave one big jump, and began throbbing so fast she could scarcely breathe. She could not have spoken had her life depended on it, but fortunately Mrs. Randolph did not appear to expect an answer.
"My little girl would have been fifteen to-day," she said, sadly. "It seems hard to realize; she was such a child when she went away. I have missed Beverly so much to-day; he and I always talk of Barbara on her birthday."
"Would you like to talk to me about her, Mrs. Randolph?" said Marjorie, in a voice that was scarcely above a whisper.
"I should like it very much. Indeed, that is why I sent for you. Mrs. Patterson has gone out. I offered to go with her, but she said she had some important business to attend to, and would rather go alone. I am afraid something is troubling her, and she doesn't want to worry me about it."