It was Fancy Gray.
CHAPTER XVIII
A RETURN TO INSTINCT
Clytie Payson had come home after a two weeks' stay at Lonely with Mrs. Maxwell, poised, resolute, calm. She seemed sustained by some inward faith manifesting itself only in a higher degree of self-consciousness, as of one inspired by a purpose.
At breakfast, on the morning after the materializing séance, Mr. Payson read the morning journal interestedly, so intensely absorbed in its columns that he scarcely spoke to his daughter. But he did not mention the evening's event, and was moody and morose. The affair had received an extensive notice. Madam Spoll, it seemed, still lingered at the point of death. Although Mr. Payson's name was not mentioned, he was much disturbed and apprehensive of publicity. Clytie, noticing his abstraction, did not disturb him with questions.
After her father had left the house she went up to her workroom, put on her pink pinafore and commenced her bookbinding. She worked at the bench near the window where she could occasionally look out upon the shadows that swept over Mount Tamalpais. The day was alternately bright and lowering; it promised rain before night.
At ten, as she was pausing from her work, with a lingering look out into her garden, she saw a young woman coming up the path. It was Fancy Gray, looking about her as if uncertain whether or not she had found the right place. Fancy wore a black-and-white shepherd's plaid suit, bright and tightly-fitted, which picked her out, in an errant glance of sunshine, against the dull green shrubbery. She stopped for a moment to look at the sun-dial, raising her white-gloved hand to her red and white hat, then passed on toward the house, out of sight.
Clytie went down-stairs herself to answer the bell, and opened the door with a look of pleasure on her face.
Fancy hesitated. "Are you busy, Miss Payson?"
"Of course not!" Clytie held out both her hands. "If I were, I'd be so glad to have you interrupt me, Miss Gray. Do come in! How charming you look! I'm so glad to see you."