“Oh, yes, Miss. The Gandiss’ never dine until eight. I will draw your tub. Pine scent or violet?”
Penny swallowed hard and nearly lost her composure. “Make it pine,” she managed, “and omit the needles!”
Exposure to rain and cold had stiffened her muscles and made her feel thoroughly miserable. However, after fifteen minutes in a steaming bath, she felt as fresh as ever. Her golden hair curled in ringlets tight to her head, and when she came from the bathroom, she found a blue dinner dress neatly pressed and laid on the bed.
“Two weeks of this life and I won’t even be able to brush my own teeth,” she thought. “No wonder Jack is such a spoiled darling.”
Penny wondered what Mrs. Maud Weems would say if she were there. The Parkers lived nearly a hundred miles away in a city called Riverview, and Mrs. Weems, the housekeeper, had looked after Penny since the death of her mother many years before.
Mr. Parker, known throughout the state, published a daily newspaper, the Star, and his daughter frequently helped him by writing news or offering unrequested advice.
In truth, neither she nor her father had been eager to spend a vacation with members of the Gandiss family, feeling that they were practically strangers. Jack, Penny feared, might prove a particular trial.
In the living room, a cheerful fire had been started in the grate. Mr. and Mrs. Gandiss were chatting with Mr. Parker, trying their best to make him feel at home.
An awkward break in the conversation was covered by announcement that dinner was served. Jack’s chair at the end of the table remained conspicuously empty.
“Where is the boy?” Mr. Gandiss asked his wife in a disapproving tone.