"No; but things are queer."
"Queer, how?"
"Well, you wouldn't understand. A man couldn't. But it's this way. Lots of potted meats and jars of jam and cans of tea and coffee and cocoa in the pantry, but no fresh meat or green vegetables about. No butter in the icebox, and no eggs or bacon."
"Well, what does that imply? I'm no housekeeper, I admit."
"It looks to me as if Vicky was leaving this morning—I mean as if she had expected to go away to-day, and so had no stuff on hand to spoil."
"Perhaps this is her market day."
"No; it's queer, that's what it is. You know sometimes Vicky does go away for days at a time."
"Hasn't she a right to?"
"Of course she has. I'm thinking it out. Where does she go? And wherever it is, that's where she is now!"
Mrs. Reeves' triumphant air seemed to settle the question.