“Good evening, Mr. Hodges. Is Mrs. Weems still here?”
“Yes, I am, Penny,” called the housekeeper. “Goodness, what time is it anyway?”
“Nearly midnight.”
Penny shook water from her coat and stepped into the spic and span living room. An unshaded electric light disclosed a rug too bright, wallpaper too glaring, furniture stiff and old fashioned. Yet one felt at once welcome, for the seamstress and her husband were simple, friendly people.
“Have a chair, Penelope,” invited Mrs. Hodges. She was short like her husband, with graying hair and an untroubled countenance.
“Thank you, but I can’t stay,” replied Penny. “I came to drive Mrs. Weems home.”
“I had no idea it was so late,” the housekeeper said, getting to her feet. “Mrs. Hodges and I have been planning my traveling outfit.”
“I’ll try to have the dresses for you within the next two weeks,” promised the seamstress. “Your good fortune makes me very happy, Maud. Isn’t the news of her inheritance wonderful, Penelope?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course,” stammered Penny. “Only I hope Mrs. Weems isn’t leaving us within two weeks. What’s this about a traveling outfit?”
“I’ve always wanted fine clothing,” said Mrs. Weems dreamily. “Mrs. Hodges is making me a suit, three silk dresses, a tissue velvet evening gown—”