Clem sat for a moment in silence. She was glad of the interruption that put off the answering of Miss Campbell’s question. With this feeling of relief was mingled surprise over the letter in her lap. Who was there that might have sent a letter to her? Had Mr. Fowler found something to prevent his coming to dinner? Whether any of the rowboats had come from the direction of the post office or not, Clem had not noticed.
“Why don’t you open it, dear?” asked Miss Campbell.
“I can’t imagine—” began Clem as she tore the envelope open. She glanced hurriedly down the page. “Oh, it’s an invitation for Dave and me to take dinner tonight aboard Mr. Morgan’s yacht! Oh, isn’t that—”
“Now, my dear,” said the little woman quietly, “there’s not a thing to prevent—”
“But,” interrupted Clem, “I wouldn’t
