wistfulness of his tone. She noticed that Mr. Marsh had made no comment
on the children. He was perhaps one of the people who never looked at
them, unless they ran into him. Eugenia Mills was like that, quite
sincerely.

"May I have a little more of the _blanquette_, if I won't be considered
a glutton?" asked Mr. Marsh now. "I've sent to the city for an
invaluable factotum of mine to come and look out for us here, and when
he comes, I hope you'll give him the recipe."

The little boys clattered back and began to eat again, in haste with
frequent demands for their mother to tell them what time it was. In
spite of this precaution, the clock advanced so relentlessly that they
were obliged to set off, the three of them, before dessert was eaten,
with an apple in one hand and a cookie in the other.

The two men leaned back in their chairs with long breaths, which Marise
interpreted as relief. "Strenuous, three of them at once, aren't they?"
she said. "A New York friend of mine always says she can take the
vibration-cure, only by listening to family talk at our table."

"What's the vibration-cure?" asked Mr. Welles seriously.

"Oh, _I_ don't know!" confessed Marise. "I'm too busy to keep up with
the latest fads in cures as Eugenia does. You may meet her there this
summer, by the way. She usually spends a part of the summer with us. She
is a very old school-friend of mine."

"French or Vermont incarnation?" inquired Marsh casually. "May I smoke?
Won't you have a cigarette, yourself?"