“But you were not.”
“In one sense, yes; in another I am with you while working in this household.” Again Polly shrugged her shoulders. “Of course I am not responsible for whatever interpretation you and he put on my message to my mother.”
Judith regarded her for a moment in silence.
“What is your object in splitting straws?” she inquired. “Wait—Uncle John understood you were to dine with him, then thought you were with us, and he now believes you are with the Wards in Chevy Chase and is motoring there, and—on returning home, I find you here.”
“Your uncle asked me to dine with him, but I never accepted his invitation,” replied Polly. “Frankly, I preferred to wait here and see you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Polly, and I would have remained at home,” exclaimed Judith. “Have you had any dinner?” with a hasty glance about in quest of a tray.
“I dined at the Pastry Shop.” Polly leaned back in her chair and watched Judith. “I asked for you before I left this afternoon, but you had not returned from your drive, and so I came back an hour ago. What was your object in writing this note?” and leaning forward Polly placed Judith’s note and check in her lap.
Judith did not touch the papers.
“The note is self-explanatory,” she stated. “I hope the vacation will restore your health.”
“My health is quite robust, thank you,” dryly. “Let us have done with camouflage, Judith, and be honest with each other. What is your object in wishing to get rid of me?”