When Polly reached the Hale residence she was admitted by the parlor maid instead of the ever smiling Anna.
“Mr. Hale left word, Miss Polly, that you were to go to Mrs. Hale,” Maud announced, helping Polly off with her coat and hat.
“Oh,” Polly paused. “Where is Mrs. Hale?”
“I don’t rightly know, miss.” Maud emerged from the depths of the hall closet where she had hung Polly’s wraps. “Mrs. Hale came in not three minutes ago. I think she has gone to her bedroom. Will you have some lunch now, miss, or a little later?”
“A little later, thanks”—Polly regarded the hall clock. “I had no idea it was nearly noon. You will find me with Mrs. Hale, Maud.”
“Very good, miss,” and they separated, the maid going to her pantry, and Polly in search of Mrs. Hale. She found that energetic matron just crossing the hall toward Judith’s boudoir. At the sound of Polly’s hail she faced around.
“Is it you, Polly!” Mrs. Hale frequently asked the obvious. “My dear, aren’t you very late to-day?”
Polly blushed at the emphasis on the adjective. “A little later than ordinary,” she answered good-naturedly. “I will make up the time, Mrs. Hale, and your husband’s manuscript will be completed without delay. Maud said that your husband left word that I was to report to you.”
“Did he?” Mrs. Hale regarded her in some perplexity. “Why, last night he decided that you were not strong enough to aid me in answering my letters; he must have changed his mind, for he wouldn’t have sent you to me for anything else.”
Polly’s attention had been caught by one phrase and the rest of Mrs. Hale’s speech went unheeded.