“Who is it?” she asked in a frightened voice.
“Only Cora and Bess,” Cora replied, noting the fear in Freda’s tone. “Are we too late to come in?”
“No, indeed,” Freda replied, reassured. “I was afraid it might be unwelcome visitors, but you are heartily welcome.”
The living room of the cottage was typical of the seashore—a long apartment, with field-stone fireplace and fumed fir trim. The stairway led up from the room and gave it an air of even greater spaciousness. Altogether it was most attractive. Mrs. Lewis, a slim, fine-featured woman, rose from her rocker as the girls entered.
“It is late to call,” began Cora, “but our business is really urgent. We have been left all alone suddenly—our housekeeper says she received a hurried call to go back to her family in the city. I don’t question the call, I know how often and faithfully they follow maids who find a country place lonely; but the fact is we girls do not fancy staying alone to-night.”
“Why, of course not,” replied Mrs. Lewis, briskly. “You must have some older person with you.”
It was plain, now that the girls had become accustomed to the lights, that Freda and her mother had both been crying. Their eyes were red and their cheeks swollen. Freda saw that the girls observed this.
“Yes, we have been weeping,” she said, with an attempt at a smile. “It seems as though we have new troubles daily.”
“I am so sorry,” Cora returned. “I wish we could help you.”
“I am sure you have done so,” replied Mrs. Lewis. “Freda has great hopes that you girls will do for us what perhaps lawyers might not be able to do.” She hesitated and Freda went on: