She was selecting a cluster to hold up for inspection, and had not remarked the cloud on Mrs. Murray’s brow.

“The strawberries are very fine.  I am much obliged to Mr. Hammond.”

The severity of the tone astonished Edna, who looked up quickly, saw the stern displeasure written on her face, and glanced inquiringly at the cousins.  There was an awkward silence, and feeling the eyes of all fixed upon her, the orphan picked up her hat, which had fallen on the floor, and asked: 

“Shall I carry the basket to the dining-room, or leave it here?”

“You need not trouble yourself to carry it anywhere.”

Mrs. Murray laid her hand on the bell-cord and rang sharply.  Edna placed the fruit on the centre-table, and suspecting that she must be de trop, moved toward the door, but Mr. Murray rose and stood before her.

“Here is a letter which arrived yesterday.”

He put it in her hand, and as she recognized the peculiar superscription, a look of delight flashed over her features, and raising her beaming eyes to his, she murmured, “Thank you, sir,” and retreated to her own room.

Mr. Murray turned to his mother and said carelessly: 

“I neglected to tell you that I heard from Clinton to-day.  He has invited himself to spend some days here, and wrote to say that he might be expected next week.  At least his visit will be welcome to you, Estelle, and I congratulate you on the prospect of adding to your list of admirers the most fastidious exquisite it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.”

“St. Elmo, you ought to be ashamed to mention your father’s nephew in such terms.  You certainly have less respect and affection for your relatives than any man I ever saw.”

“Which fact is entirely attributable to my thorough knowledge of their characters.  I have generally found that high appreciation and intimate acquaintance are in inverse ratios.  As for Clinton Allston, were he my father’s son, instead of his nephew.  I imagine my flattering estimate of him would be substantially the same.  Estelle, do you know him?”

“I have not that pleasure, but report prepares me to find him extremely agreeable.  I am rejoiced at the prospect of meeting him.  Some time ago, just before I left Paris, I received a message from him, challenging me to a flirtation at sight so soon as an opportunity presented itself.”

“For your sake, Estelle, I am glad Clinton is coming, for St. Elmo is so shamefully selfish and oblivious of his duties as host, that I know time often hangs very heavily on your hands.”

Mrs. Murray was too thoroughly out of humor to heed the dangerous sparkle in her son’s eyes.