“No, don’t go. You know all about it, anyway,—and I’d just as soon you knew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to talk things over with Maggie. I—I’m sure I don’t know w-what I’m going to do—when I can’t.”
“But you always can, dear,” soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing her visitor a fan and taking a chair near her.
Mr. Smith, after a moment’s hesitation, turned quietly back to his bookshelves.
“But I can’t,” choked Mrs. Hattie. “I—I’m going away.”
“Away? Where? What do you mean?” cried Miss Maggie. “Not to—live!”
“Yes. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“Why, Hattie Blaisdell, where are you going?”
“To Plainville—next month.”
“Plainville? Oh, well, cheer up! That’s only forty miles from here. I guess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all this mean?”
“Well, of course, it began with Fred—his trouble, you know.”