“But I never have thought to ask Mr. Pritchett about his being up here with that Spink man last Saturday night,” Lyddy said, sleepily.
“You’d better let it drop,” advised ’Phemie. “We don’t want to get the whole Pritchett family down on us.”
“What nonsense! Of course I shall ask him,” declared her sister.
But as it happened something occurred the following day to quite put this small matter out of Lyddy’s mind. The postman brought the first letter in answer to their advertisement. Lyddy was about to tear open the envelope when she halted in amazement. The card printed in the corner included the number of Trimble Avenue right next to the big tenement house in which the Brays had lived before coming here to Hillcrest.
“Isn’t that strange?” she murmured, and read the card again:
Commonwealth Chemical Company
407 Trimble Avenue
Easthampton
“Right from the very next door!” sparkled ’Phemie. “Don’t that beat all!–as Lucas says.”
But Lyddy had now opened the letter and read as follows:
“L. Bray, Hillcrest Farm, Bridleburg P. O.
“Dear Madam: