“Well, I’m hungry,” resumed Polly once more, trying to shake off care, as always. “Is this the place, Grandma?” she added, hurrying up now and giving a hand to the old dame’s elbow, as she turned in at the steep walk behind the gate.
“It’s the place, Ma’am,” said Granny Joslin. “Come on in. Whether Granny Williams is home or not ye’ll be welcome in her house. It hain’t never locked.”
CHAPTER XXVI
THE UNCERTIFIED
GRANNY JOSLIN was accurate in one statement regarding her neighbor’s household, but was not so accurate in other details. Had Polly Pendleton known surely that Marcia Haddon was in the house she now approached, she certainly must have turned and gone the other way. And had Marcia herself suspected the presence in town of these two visitors of all in the world, it is most likely that she would have prolonged her visit in the hills indefinitely, and not have returned earlier in the day, as had been the case.
In her room, Marcia Haddon heard voices—voices of the two old women, voices of two younger women—one voice which caused her to stop and listen—all her faculties arrested.
It was Granny Williams who after a time knocked at her door and called her out to meet the newcomers. Marcia, with sudden prescience of what was to come, summoned all her fortitude for what seemed to her the unkindest blow she ever had known of fate. This woman—here—following her to the edge of the world—to her husband’s very grave-side—it was a thing unspeakable in its unfitness! Her very soul rebelled against it.
Her color was high as she stepped out into the room, facing what she felt must be an encounter. “You asked for me?” said she, looking directly into the face of Polly Pendleton. “I think there must be some mistake.” Her eyes now passed calmly from one to the other, her face cold.