The time had come for mince pie and plum pudding, wine, jelly and ice cream—not that anyone had room for everything, but one could always try. The table was being cleared and there was a lull in the hubbub of conversation as well as the clatter of knife and fork.

“Father,” Teddy said quite distinctly and in a voice that carried to the foot of the table where Colonel Trask had been carving the ham as only he could, “Father, I heard the other day at the club, at least I think it was there, but I can’t remember just who it was that said it, that Mr. Ben Benson was dead.”

“Ah, indeed!”

“Yes! The man said he had seen a notice of it in some foreign newspaper. At least, I think that was what he said.”

“Poor Ursula!” ejaculated Mrs. Trask. “I wonder if it is true. But you must know, Mr. Cheatham,” she said, turning to that guest. “By Jove! Of course!” said the perfidious Teddy, pretending he had forgotten the connection between Cheatham and the subject of his remark. “Why he was your brother-in-law!”

If at this juncture a fellow diner had taken the trouble to notice the young lady introduced by the son of the house as Miss Josie Friend, he would have seen a remarkably stupid-looking young person with dull eyes and no expression to speak of—quite a different person from the gay, clever girl who had been riding in Teddy’s cutter not so many minutes before. In fact, Mr. Cheatham did glance at her when Teddy had first mentioned the name of Ben Benson. Not that he was attracted by her in the least, or had any curiosity concerning her, but he had to look somewhere and it happened to be at her. In spite of his confusion over Teddy’s announcement it flashed through his mind that the girl across the table had no doubt eaten too much turkey and roast ham. He wondered if she could hold plum pudding.

The truth of the matter was Josie had eaten sparingly, although every mouthful had been enjoyed, but she felt that her wits must not be dulled by over-feeding. Mr. Cheatham, not foreseeing that his wits would be in demand, had helped himself plentifully and genially to every dish that came his way and was in consequence not in a condition to control his countenance when Teddy blurted out that he had heard Ben Benson was dead.

Mrs. Trask’s “poor Ursula” but added to his discomposure, and when she turned on him and demanded of him further information he could cheerfully have twisted her gentle neck. When Teddy had announced in his loud, ringing tones that Ben Benson was his brother-in-law, Mr. Cheatham felt the blood mounting to his face and for a moment a strange dizziness held him.

“Arrested digestion!” was Josie’s mental diagnosis. “A shock coming too closely on the heels of ham and turkey and various side dishes.”

Had Mr. Cheatham realized that his face had taken on first a crimson then a purple tinge, and now was fading to green, he would have been more unhappy than he was, and he was uncomfortable enough. He found his voice somewhere and seemed to raise it as if through packed-down layers of dinner. He wondered if it sounded as strange to other persons as to him. “I—I know nothing about Ben Benson, but I do not believe he is dead. I can assure you my stepdaughter has been in constant correspondence with him and surely if he had died she would have known. Although her behavior to me has been unnatural beyond belief, I am sure she would at least inform me should she learn of her uncle’s death.”

“Of course she would!” declared Teddy heartily.

“Of course!” murmured Mrs. Trask.

Mr. Cheatham’s digestive process was resumed, so decided Josie. Green gave place to violet and then to his accustomed ruddy complexion. He heaved a great sigh and accepted the wedge of mince pie handed him by Anita.

Josie felt Teddy’s arm give hers a gentle pressure. She was grateful to him for not attempting to catch her eye.

“You might hit him again before so very long,” she suggested, as the clatter of pie forks again made a confidential remark possible.

“Watch me!” murmured Teddy in an audible tone, and a casual listener would have thought he meant watch him eat pie.

“I wonder if Mr. Benson has made any money,” Teddy ventured in a loud conversational tone. “I gathered from the men I happened to hear speak of him that the general opinion was he had done pretty well since he left home. I can’t recall what they said he did—sheep in Australia—diamond mines in Africa—”

“Give me sheep every time,” broke in Uncle Tom. “Ben Benson was a good fellow and loyal to the core. I do hope he hasn’t died and that he has made money and will come back here and look after his sister’s children.”

Uncle Tom had over-eaten, too, and it had made him slightly crabbed and inclined to pick a quarrel. So, not liking Cheatham, he felt a row with him would be a grand top-off to the heavy dinner. Cheatham, however, only turned purple again and let the insult pass.

“I understand Ursula is to be married soon,” said Mrs. Trask gently, “and to a very rich man, but no doubt she would be overjoyed to see her uncle again.”

“Well! Well! Who is the man?” asked Uncle Tom. He addressed his remark to Mr. Cheatham and that unhappy man was compelled to answer.

“My stepdaughter has not confided in me to the extent of informing me of her fiance’s name. She has merely formally announced her intention of marrying and divulged that the man is a millionaire.”

At this point Josie felt it difficult to hold the stupid expression she had assumed. She could but remember poor Ursula’s poverty and her brave struggle to support her little brothers. Even now she was in sorrow and misery at the loss of Philip. Was Ursula having any Christmas turkey or any dinner at all for that matter? She trusted Irene and the kind Conants to see to her creature comforts. She determined the moment she got back to Louisville to get Bob Dulaney on the long distance telephone and find out all about her forlorn friend.

It seemed hard that the truth should be kept for even one hour from Colonel and Mrs. Trask and Anita. Here they were believing the most cruel things of their former friend, while the poor girl was in extreme misery in a strange town. Josie was thankful when she remembered the kind Conants and Irene. She was sure Elizabeth Wright and Mary Louise would come forward to offer their friendship and help and that Bob Dulaney and Danny Dexter and all of the persons connected remotely with the Higgledy Piggledies would be ready with sympathy and assistance.

“I can’t see that I am getting anywhere,” Josie said to Teddy when dinner was finally over and the guests sought drawing room, hall and sitting room. “We know that Cheatham does not like to mention his stepchildren and avoids the subject of Ben Benson, but can you make anything else of the business?”

“Sure I can! He knows something about Ben Benson and he wishes to appear innocent of all concern about him.”

“I wish I could get into his house. I am sure I could find incriminating evidence of some kind.”

“That’s easy. You just leave it to me and also follow me.” Teddy sauntered up to where Mr. Cheatham was standing talking to Mrs. Trask. He was evidently bent on disabusing his hostess’ mind of any belief in the report of Ben Benson’s death.

“Just idle rumor,” he asserted.

“I am sure it was,” broke in Teddy amiably. “Of course, if you know nothing of it it could not be true. By the way, Mr. Cheatham, how is your radio machine coming on? Is it satisfactory?”

“Very! I am quite a fan.”

“So I understand. Do you know here is a young lady who has never heard a concert or lecture by wireless?” said Teddy, drawing Josie into the circle. “She is curious to hear one, too. She just told me it was the height of her ambition. Anita is a novice at radio also. As for me, I get quite fed up on wireless at the club.”

“And you, Mrs. Trask, are you interested?” asked Mr. Cheatham.

“Yes, indeed!”

“Well, suppose we make up a little party—say for to-morrow. All of you, your guest of course,” turning with stiff courtesy to Josie, whom he had taken for granted was a house guest of his hostess. “We will have dinner at seven and then we can listen in on the radio all evening. Will Colonel Trask do me the honor to be one of the party?”

Colonel Trask pleaded other engagements. Teddy whispered to his mother not to disabuse Cheatham’s mind concerning Josie’s being for the time a member of their household. Mrs. Trask had taken a liking to Josie from the first and in spite of being somewhat mystified at her sudden appearance at the Christmas party was ready to accept her as Teddy’s friend and willing to defer all questionings as to who she was or how she happened to be in Peewee Valley.

“Now aren’t you getting somewhere?” whispered Teddy.

Josie had to acknowledge that she was. To enter the old Ellett house as a guest of the present master was surely an opportunity to search for the motive of the kidnaping.

“After everyone is gone we must tell your mother about Ursula, and you must give her the letter from the poor dear,” said Josie.

The guests soon dispersed and then Josie and Teddy were closeted with Mrs. Trask, who listened with eagerness to all they had to say of Ursula. She wept over the letter and was violent in what she had to say of Cheatham, who had so wickedly estranged them from the poor girl. She readily agreed with her son and Josie that for the time being they must not let Cheatham know that his perfidy was known to them.