With an exclamation of delight, Elaine dropped the paper and, followed by Rusty, almost ran into the library.
Aunt Tabby was a stout, elderly, jolly-faced woman, precisely the sort whom Elaine needed to watch over her just now.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you," half laughed Elaine as she literally flung herself into her nurse's arms. "I feel so unstrung—and I thought that if I could just run off for a few days with you and Joshua in the country where no one would know, it might make me feel better. You have always been so good to me. Marie! Are my things packed? Very well. Then, get my wraps."
Her maid left the room.
"Bless your soul," mothered Aunt Tabby stroking her soft golden hair, "I'm always glad to have you in that fine house you bought me. And, faith, Miss Elaine, the house is a splendid place to rest in but I don't know what's the matter with it lately. Joshua says its haunts—"
"Haunts?" repeated Elaine in amused surprise. "Why, what do you mean?"
Marie entered with the wraps before Aunt Tabby could reply and Jennings followed with the baggage.
"Nonsense," continued Elaine gaily, as she put on her coat, and turned to bid Aunt Josephine good-bye. "Good-bye, Tabitha," said her real aunt. "Keep good care of my little girl."
"That I will," returned the nurse. "We don't have all these troubles out in the country that you city folks have."
Elaine went out, followed by Rusty and Jennings with the luggage.