"Well, and what have you been doing this afternoon?" Miss Graham asked pleasantly, as Barbara settled herself for a comfortable half-hour.
"I went for a walk with Elsie and Hortense. We had a nice time, but I don't think Elsie felt very well, she was so quiet. I asked her if her head ached, and she said no, but I'm afraid it did."
"I don't think Elsie has seemed quite like herself for several days," said Miss Jessie, a little anxiously. "Perhaps she is studying too hard; her mother tells me she is so very ambitious."
Neither of the girls had any explanation to suggest, and they all chatted on pleasantly on various subjects until it was time to go away and dress for dinner. Barbara was also going to the Club that evening, having been admitted as a guest of honor some months before. Indeed, she was quite the heroine of the hour, for the romantic story had quickly spread from friends and acquaintances to strangers, and she had even been written about in several newspapers, a circumstance which had filled the breasts of some other girls with envy. For several weeks there was not a girl in the city so much talked about as Barbara Randolph, the child who had been mourned as dead by her family for nearly three years, and then reappeared under conditions sufficiently interesting and romantic to fill the pages of a thrilling story-book. The Randolphs disliked the publicity, but Barbara was pursued by reporters and photographers until Beverly lost his temper, and positively refused to allow any member of the family to grant another interview.
"How does it feel to know that everybody in New York is talking about you, and all the papers asking for your picture?" Elsie had asked one day, to which Barbara had answered, with a laugh:
"I don't know that I have any particular feelings about it. I am too happy at being at home again with Mother and Beverly to care for anything else in the world."
Elsie was nowhere to be seen when Marjorie returned to her uncle's apartment, and the cousins did not meet till they were both dressed for the evening, and had joined Mr. and Mrs. Carleton in the drawing-room. Then Mrs. Carleton's first words were an anxious question.
"Are you sure you are feeling quite well this evening, Elsie darling? You are very pale."
"Of course I'm all right," said Elsie, crossly. "I do wish you wouldn't fuss so much about me, Mamma."
Mrs. Carleton sighed.