“I’ll put off the pleasure, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Rivers. I have learned that one cannot tamper with Aunt Polly’s raised biscuits. It’s late, but may I call to-morrow?” Northrup stood bareheaded while he spoke.
Mary-Clare nodded. She was mutely thankful when he strode on ahead and toward the lake.
It was while they were eating their evening meal that Larry remarked casually:
“So that’s the Northrup fellow, is it?” Mary-Clare flushed and had a sensation of being lassoed by an invisible hand.
“Yes. He is staying at the inn––I sent Noreen there this morning while I went over to the Point; he was bringing her home.”
“He seemed to know that you weren’t home.”
“Children come in handy,” Larry smiled pleasantly. “More potato, Mary-Clare?”
“No.” Then, almost defiantly: “Larry, Mr. Northrup asked his way to the inn the day he was travelling through. I have never spoken to him since, until to-day. When he found the house empty this afternoon, he naturally–––”
“Why the explanation?” Larry looked blank and again Mary-Clare flushed.