“Well, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” said Polly.
“If only we could see Benedicta coming up the road! That’s the way it would happen in a story.”
“It won’t happen in our story,” retorted Polly with a little laugh. “I’m sorry enough to cry for poor Dolly—we mustn’t ever let her know—but I will write to Sardis M. that he can’t come till Benedicta gets home.”
“Polly, you mustn’t!”
“You told me to. And what else is there to do? We can’t ask him to come and eat such stuff as we’ve been having for the last day or two.”
“No,” agreed Lilith with a doleful sigh.
They carried the letter to Overlook that afternoon, and received an answer on the second day thereafter. Polly opened it behind closed doors, only Lilith looking on.
“Oh!” she gasped; but Lilith could not tell whether it was of relief or dismay.
She caught the sheet as Polly tossed it over to her, and read:—
Dear Miss Dudley: I cannot leave you in such a dilemma. I will bring up a new cook to-morrow. Then if you don’t want me to stay, I’ll go.
With love for Dorothy
Faithfully yours
Sardis Merrifield