“I fear not, now. But let us go back to the house, and tell the tale as it should be told.”
They found that the others had already gone into the house, and were gathered round the big table that stood in the middle of the living room. As they joined the group, Sinclair said:
“Before we play games this evening, we are going to tell Patty the story of Uncle Marmaduke’s money.”
Patty was surprised to note the different expressions on her friends’ faces. Mabel seemed to shrink into herself, as if in embarrassment or sensitiveness. Mrs. Cromarty looked calmly proud, and Mrs. Hartley smiled a little.
But Bob laughed outright, and said:
“Good! I’ll help; we’ll all help, and we’ll touch up the tale until it has all the dramatic effect of a three-volume novel.”
“It won’t need touching up,” said Sinclair. “Just the plain truth is story enough of itself.”
“You begin it, Grandy,” said Bob, “and then, when your imagination gives out, I’ll take a hand at it.”
The old lady smiled.
“It needs no imagination, Robert,” she said; “if Patty cares to hear of our family misfortune, I’m quite willing to relate the tale.”