And now she was as likely as not to find Bee alone. And she had to go in—had to wait for an answer.
She threw her book impatiently on one side, and left the chair with its crumpled cushions before the fire. Which house to take first was the question. She decided on the nearer, because then she could plead a need for haste.
As she went up the garden, she caught sight of Bee's head within the front room, bending over some work. And when she rang the bell, Mrs. Major came out.
"How do you do? Have you come to see Bee?" Mrs. Major scanned the girl critically, having remarked the rarity of her calls.
"I've come to bring a note from mother. She said a verbal answer would do."
Mrs. Major glanced down the page. "Yes—your mother wants an address. Will you ask Bee to look it out in my address-book, please. I have an engagement and cannot wait."
So Magda had no choice. She made her way in, for once so noiselessly that she had time for observation, before Bee awoke to her presence. Something in Bee's bent head and quiet look impressed her—something of resolute patience in the sweet face, with its downcast eyes and dark brows. It made Magda feel uncomfortable—almost guilty. She stirred, and the other glanced up.
"Why, Magda! It is quite an age since you came last!"
Magda explained her object.
"Yes—I know where the address is. Sit down. I'll look it up."