“If Mrs. Spofford had not been so entertaining, I should say for hours and hours,” said Madame Obosky.
“As a matter of fact,” said Mrs. Spofford from her side of the fireplace, “it hasn't been more than an hour. Madame Obosky came soon after you went out, dear.”
“But—but I saw you just now coming out of your cabin,” cried Ruth blankly. She had a queer sensation as of the floor giving way beneath her.
“You saw—Oh, now I understand!” cried the Russian, with a laugh. “Zose girls of mine! Zey—they are like so many grandmothers. They will not go to bed until zey know I am safely tucked in myself. Alas, Mrs. Spofford, zose girls do not trust me, I fear. If I go out at night alone, zey instantly put their heads together and shake zem all at the same time. So that is what has happen, Miss Clinton. One of them,—Alma, I suspect, because she had a sister who,—Yes, it would be Alma, I am sure,—in any case, one of zem comes out to get me, so like a policeman. But still I do not understand something. I have told them I was coming here to see you. If it was one of my girls, why has she not come?”
Ruth had turned away, ostensibly to pull down the little window shade but really to send a swift searching glance out across the Green.
“She went the other way,” she replied, rather breathlessly.
Olga sprang to her feet. “Now, what is zat little fool up to?” she cried, angrily. “If I catch her running out to meet men at zis hour of—”
Ruth interrupted her. “She started in this direction but when she saw us, she turned and went the other way. I was talking to Mr. Percival out near the meeting-house. About the Easter services, Auntie,” she made haste to say as Mrs. Spofford looked up in surprise.
Olga was looking at her fixedly, an odd expression in her eyes, her lips slightly parted.
“He has promised to help me. He is delighted to sing in the choir. Madame Careni-Amori will sing two solos. She promises to make Joseppi sing one or two. I—I was discussing the arrangements with Mr. Percival.”