Madge gazed at her queerly.
“You really mean that?”
“Yes, it may sound hard, but I gave twenty years of my life to John. For the first time I am commencing to see him in his true colors, ungilded by my ideals. I can never hope to forget him entirely, but at least his memory becomes more bearable.”
Madge was sorely troubled. She had fully intended to tell Miss Swenster that her son was in Claymore. Now it seemed a cruel thing to do. By her own admission, the old lady was gradually casting off unhappy memories which had held her enslaved for so many years. She felt herself sufficiently strong to confront her son, yet Madge wondered. Might not it be better to say nothing? By tomorrow John Swenster would be far away with no one the wiser, providing she kept her own counsel.
She was still turning the matter over in her mind when they left the supper table. The girls cleared the table and wiped dishes. Madge dropped a plate which fortunately did not break.
“What ails you tonight?” Cara asked. “Are you worrying about that French quiz we had today?”
Madge laughed.
“No, but it might be better if I would worry a little. I flunked it flat I know.”
“You always say that, but at the end of the month I notice you manage to squeeze through pretty well at the head of the list!”
They finished drying the dishes and stacked them in the cupboard. Madge was putting away the last plate when she suddenly straightened.