"Mother is so devoted to you, Bobbie," went on Mrs. Galbraith. "Sometimes I think she cares much more for you than she does for her own grandchildren."
"Nonsense! Of course she doesn't."
"I'm not so certain," laughed the elder woman lightly. "You know she is tremendously strong in her likes and dislikes. All the Lees are. We're a headstrong family where our affections are concerned. You, Bob, are the apple of her eye."
"She has always been mighty kind to me," the young man affirmed soberly. "I never saw my own grandmothers; both of them died before I came into the world. So, you see, if it were not for borrowing Roger's and Cynthia's, I should be quite bereft."
The party rose and moved through the cool hall into the dining room.
A delicious luncheon, perfectly served by a velvet-footed maid and the old colored butler, followed, and there was a great deal of conversation, a great deal of reminiscing and a great deal of laughter.
Cynthia complained that the claret cup was too sweet and that the ices were not frozen enough and had much to say of the ice cream at Maillard's.
"But you are far from Maillard's now, my dear," her mother remarked, "and you must make the best of things."
"Being on Cape Cod you are almighty lucky to get any ice cream at all," announced Roger with brotherly zest.
"Roger, why will you tease your sister so? You hector Cynthia every moment you are in the house."