Linnet stirred the chocolate; but her face was still anxious.  Will had not spoken of Morris.  Could it be Morris?  It was not like Will not to speak of Morris.

“Will did not speak of Morris.  Did you notice that?”

“Does he always?  I suppose Morris has spoken for himself.”

“If Hollis doesn’t come over by the time we are through tea, I’ll go over there.  I can’t wait any longer.”

“Well, I’ll go with you to ease your mind.  But you must eat some supper.”

As Linnet placed the chocolate pot on the table, Marjorie exclaimed, “There they are!  Mother Rheid and Hollis.  They are coming by the road; of course the field is blocked with snow.  Now your anxious heart shall laugh at itself.  I’ll put on plates for two more.  Is there chocolate enough?  And it won’t seem so much like playing house.”

While Marjorie put on the extra plates and cut a few more slices of sponge cake, Linnet went to the front door, and stood waiting for them.

Through the open kitchen door Marjorie heard her ask, “Is anything the matter?”

“Hush!  Where’s Marjorie?” asked Hollis’ voice.

Was it her trouble?  Was it Miss Prudence?  Or Prue—­it could not be her father and mother; she had seen them at church.  Morris! Morris! Had they not just heard from Will?  He went away, and she was not kind to him.

Who was saying “dead”?  Was somebody dead?

She was trembling so that she would have fallen had she not caught at the back of a chair for support.  There was a buzzing in her ears; she was sinking down, sinking down.  Linnet was clinging to her, or holding her up.  Linnet must be comforted.

“Is somebody—­dead?” she asked, her dry lips parting with an effort.

“Yes, dear; it’s Morris,” said Mrs. Rheid.  “Lay her down flat, Linnet.  It’s the shock?  Hollis, bring some water.”

“Oh, no, no,” shivered Marjorie, “don’t touch me.  What shall I say to his mother?  His mother hasn’t any one else to care for her.  Where is he?  Won’t somebody tell me all about it?”

“Oh, dear; I can’t,” sobbed Mrs. Rheid.

Hollis drew her into a chair and seated himself beside her, keeping her cold hand in his.

“I will tell you, Marjorie.”

But Marjorie did not hear; she only heard, “Good-bye, Marjorie—­dear.”

“Are you listening, Marjorie?”

“Oh, yes.”

Linnet stood very white beside her.  Mrs. Rheid was weeping softly.

“They were near a ship in distress; the wind was high, and they could not go to her for many hours; at last Morris went in a boat, with some of the crew, and helped them off the wreck; he saved them all, but he was hurt in some way,—­Will does not know how; the men tried to tell him, but they contradicted themselves,—­and after getting safe aboard his own ship—­do you understand it all?”

“Yes.  Morris got back safe to the Linnet, but he was injured—­”