“And we are delighted to be your first guests, Miss Stuart,” said Gwendolin, who was the elder of the two girls. “Mr. Heller wishes to come in and pay his respects to you later, and I believe Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew are on their way now. We passed them as we drove here.”
“Aunt Sallie,” Ruth spoke softly a few moments later, when she thought no one was listening, “little Eunice is better. But Naki had to take her to the hospital at Pittsfield. He could not find a place for her here. Fortunately, Pittsfield is only a few miles from Lenox over a simply perfect road, so we shan’t mind going back and forth in the car. Naki and Ceally are keeping the poor old Indian grandmother with them. Ceally says she seems subdued and frightened.”
Ruth turned rosy red. From the silence in the room she knew her guests were hearing what she said. “I beg your pardon,” she explained, turning to Dorothy Morton, who was nearest her. “Please forgive my bad manners. We are so interested in our new protégée that I forget that you know nothing of her.”
“But we should like to know, awfully!” Dorothy declared. “Who is this Indian girl? I thought all the Indians had vanished from the Berkshires.”
But Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew Reginald were at the door.
Behind them was a plump little German, with blond hair parted in the middle, a tiny waxed mustache and near-sighted blue eyes. He was Franz Heller, the Secretary at the German Embassy. He could usually be found somewhere in the neighborhood of Gwendolin Morton.
Reginald Latham came up to Bab and sat down next her.
“Please,” he whispered immediately, “do not speak of the little Indian girl before my uncle.”
“Why not?” queried Bab, in astonishment.
“I can’t explain to you now!” Reginald faltered. His uncle’s eyes were fastened on him.