It was rather a pity that Bonnie May yielded to an impulse to go out and have a little talk with Mrs. Shepard after she had finished her dinner.
It was a pity, because she also yielded to an impulse to talk confidentially to the sympathetic old servant, and as a result she received an entirely erroneous impression.
“I’m going away for a visit,” said Bonnie May, by way of opening.
“A visit!” repeated Mrs. Shepard. “Why, ain’t you here just for a visit?”
“Oh—yes! Of course!” was the response, given rather blankly.
“You mean you’re going for a visit somewhere else.”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
There was silence for a time, while Bonnie May tried to realize the full truth of what Mrs. Shepard had said. Yes, she was merely a visitor in the mansion, certainly. And they had probably been regarding her in that light all the time.
A fear she had entertained earlier in the day recurred to her. “And I expect they may be getting tired of me,” she threw out tentatively.
Mrs. Shepard was what is usually called a sensible woman. “Oh, well,” she replied, “you know how that is. When you are a visitor, people always treat you politely, but, of course, they expect you not to wear your welcome out.”