“I am Miss Wilkinson, as you know, and my friend is Miss Hammer.”
There was a silence for a few moments while they ate. Both girls realized that even now the scouts were probably eating something like canned salmon and beans, while they enjoyed a chicken dinner; but they said nothing. Marjorie made up her mind not to utter a word of praise of Mrs. Higgins’s cooking.
“It’s evident,” she remarked sarcastically, “that you people never had any children!”
A faint flush spread over the woman’s face, and then a tear came to her eye. But she looked down hastily at her plate to hide her embarrassment.
“No, we never did,” she replied. “But how did you know?”
“No mother or father could be so cruel!” answered Marjorie cuttingly.
The thrust hit deep; the older woman was silenced. The girl had touched the tenderest chords of her heart, and now she was fully ashamed. She would have abandoned the whole project had she dared, she was so completely on her prisoners’ side. But she was afraid of the old man; he might do something desperate to them all if she went back on her word. And even now she realized that she too was a prisoner, just as much as the girls were, and in her own house!
“What do you think can be keeping him?” asked Frieda, refusing to dignify such a contemptible creature with a name.
“I don’t know,” replied the woman. “Perhaps the telephone is out of order. Or maybe he’s took sick.”
Fresh peach ice-cream and a wonderful chocolate cake failed to produce any sort of comment on the part of the girls. Marjorie thought she had never tasted such delicious cooking in her life, but still she said nothing. Mrs. Higgins sighed; she so seldom had anyone to cook for, and it would have meant so much to her to have her efforts appreciated.