Neither of her hostesses were paying very strict attention to the visitor's remarks, but Happie came forward at once from the window. "Aunt Keren," she said, "this is the second time Miss Neumann has hinted that this house is not rightfully yours, only the first time she did more than hint—she said straight out that it belonged to Gretta. I asked Gretta what it meant, but she said nothing at all. Now Rosie seems to have heard of it. Wouldn't you like to understand it?"
"Of course," said Miss Bradbury sharply, forgetting to keep the current of electricity in safe directions, and endangering her life by letting her feet slip from the round of her second chair. "Tell us what you know, Miss Neumann—or Rosie."
"I know all there is to know, and it's all foolishness," said Rosie, forestalling Eunice. "Suppose I git Emmaline Gulick a cup of tea, she's that wet."
"By all means the tea, and for us all, please, but what is the story?" insisted Miss Bradbury, alert as she became convinced there really was a story.
"Gretta's grandmother owned this house," began Eunice, nothing loath to tell the tale which Rosie would gladly have suppressed. "She owned it before she went and married a second time, married old Bittenbender yet! Everybody knew what he was, they say. She found out her mistake, and it didn't take long neither, but 'tain't so easy cuttin' the hangman's rope as 'tis tyin' it. She had to make the best of what there wasn't no best to. She said often and often that she'd made a will leavin' everything she had to her son—that was Gretta's father. But when she come to die her son was dead and buried before her, and there wasn't no will nowheres. So old Bittenbender he took the house, and there wasn't nobody to stop him. We couldn't go to law about it; we hadn't the money nor the time to be on the court for dear knows how many years. Gretta hadn't no other relations to make a fuss, so it stood the way 'twas. If they'd found the will old Bittenbender couldn't have took it, but as 'twas, he did. Then when he'd had it as long's he wanted it, and he was goin' off to live with his folks in Northampton County—he'd had a stroke and couldn't live on alone—why, didn't he up and give over the place to you instead of payin' you what he owed you in money, and lettin' the place for Gretta, who'd ought to have had it by rights in the first place! The Bittenbenders had plenty money, so there wasn't no reason why he couldn't have paid up if he'd had a mind to. He's dead now himself, and you've got the place, but you hadn't ought to have had it, and if 'twas me I shouldn't want it, knowin' how 'twas."
Miss Bradbury and Mrs. Scollard exchanged perturbed glances, while the children watched them anxiously.
"Miss Neumann," said Miss Bradbury at last, "this is a most amazing story. Of course you realize that it is based on mere rumor; there is no proof that Gretta's grandmother made a will, and it is possible that it was she who failed in her duty of providing for the child. It is possible that Mr. Bittenbender had a legal right to the place. Certainly I am guiltless of so much as a suspicion that any one was wronged by his holding it and relinquishing it to me. All that I can do is to try to discover the truth. You may rest assured that I shall deal entirely honestly, not merely according to the letter of the law, but according to its spirit, and should do so were it a stranger who was affected by this issue, and not Gretta, of whom we are so fond."
"It don't do much good to talk," said Eunice defiantly. "I meant to come up and tell you about this, come a-purpose, but now the rain's drove me in here I thought I might as well leave you know what's on my mind when I'd got the chance. Gretta's less good than ever to us. She's all took up with you folks here, and she's gittin' more and more ungrateful to us, who's done all she's had done fer her since she was five years old."
"And that hain't much," Rosie burst forth. "You hadn't ought to talk, Eunice; you had ought to remember we was all lookin' on, and everybody in Crestville knews Gretta's more'n earned the interest on the time before she could do anything. You come out in the kitchen with me and I'll give you some tea. Then I guess, Miss Bradbury, they might as well go up-stairs and go to bed. It's ten o'clock already, and the storm's as fierce as ever, and it'll be late till it stops, if 'tain't morning. You make Emmaline understand, Eunice, and you and Reba kin go to bed in my room."
"I guess I won't drink tea at this hour!" exclaimed Eunice indignantly, "and I hain't a-goin' to bed. Emmaline's kind of feeble; if you want to take her up to your room and leave her lay till she's called, I don't care, but I hain't goin' to bed, nor Reba hain't. I won't keep you folks up; you kin let us with Rosie, and go to bed if you want to. I wanted to tell you about this house, and now I'm satisfied."