She sat happily arranging and rearranging the blossoms until some one who did not know of our presence came through an adjoining room, and called her.
“Margaret! Margaret!”
She did not move nor did she seem to hear.
“They are calling you, dear,” Pelleas said.
She looked up at us quickly.
“What did they call me before—do you remember?” she said to us. “It wasn’t that.”
Of the danger to the child I, in my sudden wild wonder and curiosity, took no thought. I leaned toward her.
“Was it Halverson?” I asked.
Her face brightened.
“Yes,” she said, “somebody used to call me that. Why don’t they call me that now? What did you say the word is?”