And then on Saturday morning as she was walking to the store for a pound of sugar which Mrs. Brady had forgotten to order, she was startled to observe that the front gate of the Swenster Mansion stood ajar.
“That padlock didn’t come off by itself,” she thought alertly.
The temptation to investigate was too great to resist. She paused at the gate and looked inside the grounds. To her further amazement, she saw the front door open and a workman was removing boards from the downstairs windows.
“Good morning!” said a pleasant voice.
Madge jumped. Turning, she saw a middle-aged, white-haired lady, standing by a mock orange bush slightly to the left of the gate. She was regarding Madge with a kindly smile.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the latter apologized in embarrassment. “I didn’t know anyone was at home. I—”
“I don’t wonder at your interest in the place,” the lady came quickly to her rescue. “The house has been closed for so many years that it must be a town curiosity. Won’t you come in?”
“Oh, I think not,” Madge murmured, yet aching to do that very thing. “I don’t like to intrude.”
“It will be no intrusion I assure you,” the other responded warmly. “I was wishing only a moment ago that someone would drop in to visit me. I suppose all my old friends are gone by this time.”
She sighed, and Madge saw an expression akin to sorrow cross her face. Immediately she smiled again and opened the gate wider.