“I don’t know what to think,” replied the man. “It may have been an accident. That one servant girl we have is awfully careless.”
“Which one?”
“Hattie Adams. The one who waits on your table and washes the dishes.”
“Hattie Adams!” repeated Mary Louise. “Lemuel Adams’ daughter!”
“Yes. And Tom Adams’ sister.” He lowered his voice. “That’s Tom over there—remember him?—he does odd jobs for both me and Frazier sometimes.”
Mary Louise nodded and glanced at the young man. He was a big fellow with a somewhat sullen expression. He looked something like Hattie.
“How do you know Lem Adams?” inquired Mr. Flick.
“I don’t,” replied Mary Louise quietly. “But the storekeeper over at Four Corners told me about him. How he used to own all this land and sold it cheap to Mr. Hunter. So he thinks maybe Mr. Adams is burning the cottages to spite the Hunters.”
“But Hunter is dead!” objected Mr. Flick. “And it doesn’t spite the Hunters one bit, because they are fully insured. That’s the worst of it for me. My insurance only covers my mortgage—which Cliff Hunter happens to hold. I’m as good as wiped out.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Mary Louise sympathetically.