Accordingly, she got out of the carriage at the entrance to the town, and the others saw her go into a grocer's shop as they were driven on. When the carriage returned a quarter of an hour later, she was standing waiting outside the same shop. The shopman came out and placed a parcel in the carriage, then Mrs. Fowler took her seat and gave the order—"Home." She seemed lost in deep thought during the remainder of the drive, and spoke but seldom, paying slight attention to the conversation the others carried on. She was evidently glad to reach Greystone.
"I expect she is really very tired," Margaret reflected, "but does not like to confess it." And she was confirmed in this opinion when she saw how quiet and languid Mrs. Fowler appeared during the evening. She did not request Miss Conway to play to her as she usually did, but lay on the sofa with a book in her lap, yawning occasionally as though weary of the day, so that neither Margaret nor the governess were surprised when she declared her intention of going to bed early. She would not hear of Margaret sleeping with her, however, but kissed both of her children good night in the drawing-room, and told them not to disturb her when they went upstairs to bed.
It was only eight o'clock when Mrs. Fowler retired for the night. At half-past eight Gerald was put to bed, after which Margaret and her governess sat down together to their supper. Each seemed rather depressed, Miss Conway even more so than her little pupil.
"It is so dull without father," Margaret sighed. "I hope he will not stay away very long. Oh, dear! I think mother is very, very tired to-night, don't you? I am afraid she has been doing too much."
"I hope not," was the serious reply. "You did not walk far this morning, did you?"
"Oh, no! We were sitting down on the beach most of the time. Mother read the newspaper and talked and seemed all right then."
"Did you see anything of Salome Petherick?"
"Nothing, though we stood outside her garden several minutes looking at her flowers. I suppose she was busy in the cottage. Oh, Miss Conway, how I do wish Salome's father was a teetotaler! I was telling Mrs. Lute about him yesterday, and she said Salome ought to try to persuade him to take the pledge."
"I did not know that Mrs. Lute was a teetotaler," Miss Conway exclaimed, looking rather surprised.
"She is not. Indeed, she offered me a glass of wine."