In a few minutes, the old lady came slowly down the stairs. She was dressed in severe black, with a long full skirt which swept the floor, and wore a white lace cap. Her face was wrinkled and sunken but her eyes were as bright as those of a young girl. She beamed kindly upon Madge and Cara as they arose to greet her. They did not offer to help her to a chair for they guessed that she was proud of her ability to get around by herself.
“Let me see, do I know your names?” she inquired, studying their faces intently. “You’re not the Sterling girl, are you?”
“Yes, I am,” Madge acknowledged in astonishment. She never before had met Mrs. Grandale. “How did you guess?”
“Didn’t guess,” the old lady cackled in delight. “I could tell those features anywhere. I used to know your father, my dear, and you’re the picture of him.”
Madge looked a trifle embarrassed at the reference to her father. His name was seldom mentioned in the Brady household although no disgrace was attached to his memory. He had simply disappeared when Madge was a child, and no one had ever heard of him again. Some day she hoped to learn what had taken him away from Claymore, but at the present she preferred that Mrs. Grandale not dwell upon the subject.
She introduced Cara Wayne, and for a time it was next to impossible for the girls to get a word in edgewise, as Mrs. Grandale immediately went into a long monologue on the subject of the Wayne family history. By concerted action they finally managed to switch the subject to the Swenster mansion.
“In my day, it was the house of Claymore,” Mrs. Grandale declared. “And what a pity that it has fallen into decay! Not that folks didn’t say the Swensters would rue the day they built it—it was much too fine for the city even in prosperous times.”
“Tell us about the Swensters,” Madge encouraged.
“They were a proud family,” the old lady ruminated, obviously relishing the tale. “At one time, old Mr. Swenster practically ran the town. His daughters were in society and they thought the world depended upon the swish of their skirts. At least Florence did.”
“How many girls were there?” Cara asked.