“Oh, how sad!” Adele exclaimed. “Why couldn’t some one have given them a cabin to live in for the few years that are left?”
“Well, nobody did,” Granny replied. “And then there’s Sally Grackle. She lives all by herself, out on the edge of the woods. It’s strange how people change! Sally was such a jolly girl and everybody liked her, but she had a sorrow, which, like as not, made her queer-actin’, the way she is now. She’s shut herself up, and I’ve heard tell that she won’t see anybody. That’s all the folks living around here now who were young when I was.”
Half an hour later, when the two girls were slowly wending their way homeward, Gertrude said, “Not a very promising party, Della, judging by the guests. Poor Miss Grackle, not quite in her right mind, and Mr. and Mrs. Quigley out at the poorhouse. Luckily Grandpa Dally is a host in himself. He’s jolly and brimful of stories, so perhaps our party will be a success if we can get the guests to agree to come to it.”
The next morning the Sunny Seven met under the elm-tree in the school-yard to report progress. When the other five had heard of the visit to Granny Dorset, Betty Burd exclaimed, “That terrible Miss Grackle! You needn’t appoint me on a committee to go and invite her. I know some church ladies who went there once and she chased them away with a broom.”
“Poor thing!” Adele said. “She must be very unhappy, living there all alone by that desolate wood. Gertrude and I will gladly go and invite Miss Grackle to the party.”
That very afternoon they started out toward the woods at the north edge of the village. The houses were scattered, and at last the girls turned into a path which led through a swampy meadow. They had to pick their way carefully, to keep from getting their feet wet. Their destination was a weather-beaten, gray house, which looked as though it was about to tumble down, standing in the deep shade of two large pines. It was a cloudy day and the wind moaned dismally through the trees. There was no sign of life about the place. The seldom-used gate creaked as it swung open on rusty hinges.
“I suppose that at any minute Miss Grackle may rush out at us with a broom,” Gertrude whispered. “Do you feel at all afraid, Adele?”
“No,” the other girl replied, as they steadily advanced toward the house. The porch, which was broken in places, was littered with leaves.
“Miss Grackle doesn’t use her broom to sweep with, I judge,” Gertrude said softly.
Adele rapped bravely, but no one answered. Then she turned the knob and the door opened. The room which they entered was dark, cheerless, and damp. At first, they could scarcely see, and so they stood still. When they had become accustomed to the dim light, the girls saw a large, old-fashioned bed, and in it lay an elderly woman with a pinched, gray face.