“Do come in. The house and grounds are in frightful condition but within a few days I hope to have them in better shape. Perhaps you will help me with suggestions?”
Madge could not resist such an appeal. Actually, she desired nothing more than an opportunity to talk with the woman, perhaps learning what had brought her to Claymore.
“I’d love to come in,” she smiled, passing through the gate, “but I’m not very good at suggestions about gardening. You’re—you’re the owner, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am Agatha Swenster.”
Madge introduced herself. Miss Swenster knew how to place her at ease, and soon she lost all feeling of embarrassment. They wandered slowly about the ruined garden. Mrs. Swenster pointed out various things which she planned to have done.
“It must seem nice to be coming back to your old home,” Madge commented politely.
“Yes, in a way it does. A great many memories are associated with this house—some very pleasant, others less so. Now that I am here again I should like to remain. However, I fear it is impossible. I am merely putting the place in order before I sell it.”
Madge’s face disclosed her disappointment. She could not imagine the old mansion in the hands of a ruthless, modern owner who might tear down the shutters, do away with the old-fashioned garden and relandscape the grounds. It was definitely a house of the past, and Miss Swenster fitted perfectly into the picture.
“I’m not anxious to sell,” the owner confessed, “but I have no choice. I plan to hold an auction sale in a few weeks. The house is furnished with really lovely pieces of furniture. I should like to have you see my dishes sometime before the sale.”
“What a shame to auction off such valued possessions,” Madge said with honest regret. “Aren’t you holding anything back?”