Cara was disappointed and disclosed it. She brightened when Miss Swenster suggested that both girls remain for supper. It was not difficult to persuade Madge, for she felt that she should tell Miss Swenster what she had discovered, and she preferred time to lead up to the matter gradually.
The girls telephoned to their homes, receiving permission to remain. They helped Miss Swenster with the supper, setting the table, and taking great pains with the salad which was their own concoction.
It was nearly seven-thirty when they sat down to dine. For some reason, conversation lagged. Miss Swenster appeared unusually constrained though she made a studied attempt at cheerfulness. No one ate very much. It was in the minds of all that this likely would be their last supper together. In a few days the mansion would be sold.
“I wish you weren’t going away, Miss Swenster,” Cara said presently. “It won’t seem right for any other person to live in this lovely house.”
Miss Swenster smiled, but tears shone in her eyes. She brushed them impatiently away.
“What a sentimental old fool I am! Here I’ve not lived in this house for eight years but now that I know I’m to lose it, I feel so desolate. It’s almost as though I’m losing my last friend.”
“You have a great many friends here in Claymore,” Madge assured her, “only they’re timid about coming to see you. I’ve heard folks say so.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Miss Swenster agreed slowly. “There was a time when I didn’t care to see people. I couldn’t bear their sympathy. I drove them away.”
She relapsed into a moody silence which neither of the girls ventured to break. Presently, she looked up and smiled apologetically.
“I shouldn’t impose my troubles on you. I’m sure that at times my actions must have seemed very queer. I feel I owe you an explanation for certain things which likely are not clear.”