Emily would not urge her to go with them. She didn't dare even mention such a possibility to Martha. She thanked her lucky stars that Mrs. Benton's sister was going to be terribly angry if Mrs. Benton went with Emily.
When the girls came in, Martha said, wearily:
"Oh, let them come up if they want to. I suppose they've got to see me, if they want to. Hand me that vanity case, mammie, please." And she sat up and rouged a little bit, to defy detection, as it were.
The third day she was home she got up and came downstairs for lunch and supper. "I won't have you carrying all those things up to me," she said to Emily. On Friday she happened to be in the living room when Greta came in. She received her with little cordiality, and presently, as they sat there, Emily doing most of the talking, two more girls came in. Emily was breathing a sigh of relief that the afternoon had passed so smoothly, as they left. But when she turned into the living room from seeing them out, Martha burst out:
"Oh, for the love of Heaven, let's get away, mammie! I can't stand this. This house; this town. Let's go to-night, please, mammie!"
"We aren't ready."
"I am. I'm packed. I'll do your packing. Let's get out of this!"
Emily wondered when she had got her things out of her painted room. She had never seen her open the door of it. She said: "I thought you didn't mind seeing the girls. You could have excused yourself."
"Yes, I could, and they would have been wondering why. They make me so sick. They just come prying about to see what they can find out!"
"That's nonsense. You oughtn't to talk that way. They came just naturally, because you weren't well."