“Well! Well! This is Sylvester Simpson—Major Simpson of Burnett & Burnett’s. What is it? Who are you? What do you want?”
Mrs. Leslie could hardly refrain from calling him an old idiot. If he had not come from her county and belonged to such a highly respectable family she would have done so. As it was she merely said: “Hello! Hello!” all the time trying to remember what she was to say if Josie got back. She knew it was something connected with picnics, but the major’s bellowing and stupidity had driven it from her mind. She did not know why she had connected the cryptic code with picnics—she couldn’t remember that or anything else. She only knew that Josie O’Gorman had come driving up in a very handsome blue car and had been standing chatting very intimately with a handsome stranger when, so far as she knew, her lodger had no acquaintances in Wakely. Why had the car not stopped in front of the apartment house? That in itself was shady. She also knew that she had promised Major Silvester Simpson to let him know when Josie returned if she ever did return. She was to name no names but merely say that something that was in some way connected with picnics had come. She tried to think, but the Major’s impatient “Well! Well!” at the other and drove all coherency from her thoughts. She must say something or she was sure the impatient old man would pull his telephone out by the roots.
“The watermelons have come!” she gasped. “They just came—the watermelons!” and then she heard a great spluttering at the other end of the line and a faint: “Is that you Polly?”
“Yes sir!” she said, and hung up the receiver.
“Watermelons! This time of the year?” questioned Josie curiously, and then realized that something had happened and was still happening. Mrs. Leslie’s cheeks were burning and her usually tidy hair had escaped from its net and was standing out in a far from respectable manner. She looked at Josie with sad, unfriendly eyes, and her mouth trembled as she said:
“Good evening!”
“Good evening!” returned Josie. “I—I hope nothing is the matter, Mrs. Leslie.”
“Matter! Nothing that I know of.” But Mrs. Leslie was too honest to dissemble and suddenly she lost all control of herself and sinking into a chair, burst into tears.
“Oh, my dear, my dear!” cried Josie kneeling by her side. “Please, please, Mrs. Leslie, tell me if anything is the matter. Where is Mary?”
Mrs. Leslie pointed to the closed bedroom door.