“I was a bit hard pressed for money,” the widow resumed. “On an impulse I sold all my furniture to Mr. Butterworth. Do you suppose he will sell it back to me?”
“He should,” declared Penny.
“I like Riverview for I was born here,” Mrs. Marborough went on, talking as if to herself. “By selling the pearls I can refurnish the house, have the grounds restored to their original beauty, and live as I formerly did!”
“Oh, I do hope you decide to stay here,” Penny said eagerly.
Mrs. Marborough started a fire in the kitchen stove and put a kettle of water on to boil. Soon the tea was ready, and was served with generous slices of yellow sponge cake.
“I suppose everyone in Riverview considers me a crotchety old woman,” Mrs. Marborough remarked presently. “I haven’t been very friendly because I didn’t want folks to know I had sold my furniture. Some days ago a group of women came to see me about opening the house for some sort of Festival—”
“Pilgrimage Week,” Penny supplied.
“I turned them down, not because I wasn’t eager to help, but because I couldn’t let folks know all my furniture was gone. I wonder if they would still care to include Rose Acres in the tour of houses?”
“Oh, Mrs. Marborough, it would practically save the Festival!” Penny cried. “A cheap Indian show is coming to town the same week. I know for a fact that the Festival tickets aren’t selling very well.”
“Everyone wants to see Rose Acres,” Louise added enthusiastically.