Terry decided to change the subject. The old lady seemed so broken. It was too bad, really, that no one could help her.
“Who was the girl in the picture downstairs? I think she is lovely,” Terry pointed out brightly.
“She was Patience Howe, an ancestor of mine. She lived here in Washington’s time. She was a modern girl for those times: brave and strong. She kept that horse of hers right in this house when some of the Continental soldiers tried to steal it,” Granny answered Terry, her head high now with a touch of ancestral pride.
“Could we—would you—” Sim faltered—“would you let us come to see you sometime—just to talk? Or would you rather not tell us things? I can understand that the present condition of this old place must make you very sad, and if you can’t bear to think about it, we’ll know just how you feel.” Sim was trying to be diplomatic, but at the same time she hoped the old lady would answer “yes.”
“Dick told us a little of your misfortune, though we had to drag it out of him,” Terry added. “That was yesterday, when we heard the footsteps.”
“Footsteps!” echoed Granny. “That would be Nathaniel Greene walking in his delirium from the wound in his head. Poor fellow! He loved Patience, and she nursed him a long time, but he died.” The old lady was once more lost in ancient memories.
The girls didn’t know how to proceed now. Sim’s request was still unanswered, and they did so want to learn more. In their hearts they all wanted to help this charming lady and save Sycamore Hall. That would aid Betty and Dick also.
With a brave effort, Granny checked her dreaming, and putting a tanned old hand on Sim’s arm said: “Of course you may come to see me—if your parents will let you. I’m considered somewhat of a recluse by many folk around here. But I’ll be glad to have you to tea tomorrow afternoon. All of you. You’ll be perfectly safe, and it will brighten things up for me. Do you know where I live?” she asked briskly.
The girls said that they did not and began thanking her and assuring her that no one would in the least object to their visit. They were all talking at once, so Granny smiled and held up a gentle restraining hand.
“You sound so alive and gay—I know what you’re trying to tell me. It’s all right. I’ll enjoy having you. But now I must go back. We are baking today, and I stayed longer than I should have.” She stood at the door as if indicating to them that they too must leave.