“Miss Frink is selling it to Mr. Goldstein. He has just been in the garden looking it over. He told Grandpa, and when Grandpa came in to me he looked old. I never saw Grandpa look old before.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“No. Mr. Goldstein is going to put up a flat building.”
Hugh’s brow was puckered in a puzzled frown. “Aunt Susanna would have spoken of it to me.”
“Oh, think what a wonderful business woman she is. She wouldn’t talk of her business deals to any one, would she?”
“Perhaps not,” returned Hugh.
“But Miss Frink likes Grandpa. I believe she would be sorry for us, and I think, Hugh, it really makes me more sure that she is selling us out, that she has gone away.”
“Oh, pshaw, Millicent. Aunt Susanna isn’t any coward.”
“No,” agreed the girl ruefully, “the Queen of Farrandale doesn’t have to be; but she seemed to like us, and I feel she would be sorry and perhaps would rather be away.”