“Well, I suppose he didn’t get your letter,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Jack and his wife have gone over to spend a few days with some friends in Mescal or they’d run you over in the car.” There was a pause as Polly digested this unwelcome bit of news, then the old lady continued: “They’d only been gone two days when both the children came down with mumps, and my Mexican woman’s husband had to take that time to join the army, so, of course, she had to leave. If things weren’t so messed up I’d take you home with me——”
“Oh, no,” said Polly, promptly. “I couldn’t think of it. If I could just get somebody to drive me over——” Both she and Mrs. Morgan looked at Swartz.
“Mendoza might if he ain’t drunk—sometimes he ain’t,” volunteered that gentleman.
“Oh, no, I don’t think I’d like him,” shivered Polly. “Isn’t there anybody else?”
“Nobody with a car,” replied Mrs. Morgan. “It’d take you till morning to drive over—the roads are awful. Mendoza is a very decent old thing. You go and see if you can get him, Swartz,” and Swartz lumbered away. Old lady Morgan understood how to make herself obeyed. “Have you tried to get Athens on the ’phone?”
“Telephone?” A smile broke over Polly’s unhappy face. “Why, I never thought of that.”
“Good heavens, child, where do you think you are? Here, I’ll get them for you.”
She led the way to the office.
“I haven’t seen your brother since he went up to Douglas to get married,” she said. “Didn’t know they’d come home.”
“Oh, yes, they must be home,” said Polly, an awful doubt coming into her mind. “They—they must be home!”