l and Mrs. Wetherbee up to Snowhill for
three or four days," pursued Margaret, "and the Jim Gregorys and Mr.
Fred Gregory and me. Won't your father be pleased? Now, Duncan, what
clothes do I need?"

"Oh, the best you've got," said Duncan, instantly interested; and,
until it was time to dress for dinner, the two were deep in absorbed
consultation.

Duncan was whistling as he went upstairs to dress, and his stepmother
was apparently in high spirits. But twenty minutes later, when he found
her in the library, there was a complete change. Her eyes were worried,
her whole manner distressed, and her voice sharp. She looked up from a
telegram as he came in.

"I've just had a wire from an old friend in New York," said she, "and I
want you to telephone the answer for me, will you, Duncan? I've not a
moment to spare. I shall have to leave for New York at the earliest
possible minute. After you've telephoned the wire, will you find out
about the trains from South Station? And get my ticket and reservation,
will you? Or send Paul for them--whatever's quickest."

Duncan hardly recognized her. Her hesitation was gone, her diffidence
gone. She did not even look at him as she spoke; his scowl passed
entirely unnoticed. He stood coldly disapproving.

"I don't really see how you can go," he began. "Mrs. Gregory--"

"Yes, I know!" she agreed hastily. "I telephoned. She hadn't come in
yet, so I had to make it a message--simply that Mrs. Coppered couldn't
manage it tomorrow. She'll be very angry, of course. Duncan, would it
save any time to have Paul take this right to the telegraph station--"

"Surely," Duncan interrupted in turn, "you're not going to rush off--"

"Oh, surely--surely--surely--I am!" she answered, fretted by his tone.
"Don't tease me, dear boy! I've quite enough to worry over! I--I"--she
pushed her hair childishly off her face--"I wish devoutly that your
father was here. He always knows in a second what's to be done!
But--but fly with this telegram, won't you?" she broke off suddenly.

Duncan went. The performance of his errand was not reassuring. The
telegram was directed to Philip Penrose, at the Colonial Theatre, and
read:

Will be with you this evening. Depend on me. Heartsick at news.
MARGARET.

When he went upstairs again, he rapped at his stepmother's door.
Hatted, and with a fur coat over her arm, she opened it.

"Are you taking Fanny?" said Duncan, icily. Fanny, the maid,
middle-aged, loyal, could be