"Yes, Beverly Randolph, at your service. I shall be very glad to meet your cousin, I am sure. Perhaps you will introduce us."
"Of course I will if you like. It seems very queer not to know a person who lives in the same house with one, but Elsie says they don't know any of the people at the hotel. It was all so different at home."
Then Beverly Randolph asked some questions about Arizona, which set Marjorie off on a description of the ranch, and her life there, which lasted until they reached the Fifth Avenue entrance.
"That's the gate I came in," exclaimed Marjorie. "I wasn't so far away, after all. Would you mind telling me what time it is?"
Beverly Randolph took out his watch.
"Ten minutes past nine," he said, looking somewhat dismayed in his turn; "I had no idea it was so late. Luckily it is Saturday, so there are no recitations to miss."
"O dear! I am afraid I am terribly late for breakfast," said Marjorie, feeling very much ashamed of herself. And without another word, they hurried across the avenue, and entered the hotel, where the very first person Marjorie saw in the entrance hall was her uncle.
"Oh, Uncle Henry, I am so sorry to be late!" she cried remorsefully, springing to Mr. Carleton's side. "I hope you and Aunt Julia aren't annoyed with me."
"Where in the world have you been, Marjorie?" her uncle demanded, ignoring the latter part of her remark. He was looking decidedly annoyed as well as worried.
"Why, I got up early," Marjorie explained, "and the girl who was dusting said you never had breakfast before half-past eight, so I thought I would go for a walk in the park. I got lost, and couldn't remember the name of the hotel, but fortunately, just as I was beginning to be a little frightened, I met Mr. Beverly Randolph, and he brought me home."