Martha was coming up to her mother. Mrs. Williams was with her. The men had stopped to talk together about something, a few steps away. Had the Williamses seen that woman? Would they know who she was?
"Hello, mother!" Martha said, quite naturally. And Emily, she hoped undismayed, explained to her and Mrs. Williams why she had come. "I thought I'd better come and get you, so you'd have time enough to get ready," she said.
Martha jumped in, taking her place at the wheel. She had come out with Greta, whom Emily saw at some distance, coming towards her. She asked Mrs. Williams to tell her she had gone home. They whirled away.
"Martha!" Emily said, sternly, "I came out here to get you. And this is what I find. Do you know who was in that car?"
"What car?"
"That one ahead, that just drove out." Martha looked down the road.
"Eve?" she asked.
"Her sister. She came out here to see if her husband was with you," Emily's voice trembled with dismay.
"Why, mother!" Martha was indignant. "What makes you say such a thing?"
"I saw her expression. She was waiting to catch him with you. Do the Williamses know her? Oh, I wonder if they saw that—if they understood? Mr. Jenkinson was sitting on the porch there. Martha, this is the end of that. I didn't like you being with that man before; but, now I've seen her, I simply won't have it. She's jealous. Why, Martha, a girl might get into an awful mess, this way! That woman—driving away in that way. Quarreling in public—that way!"