When she had gone the four visitors looked at each other silently. Finally, “Rotten shame, I call it,” muttered Laurie. Ned nodded agreement. Polly, whose gaze was fixed on Laurie expectantly, said suddenly: “Laurie, if you have anything in mind I think you’d ought to tell her. It might make her feel more comfortable.”
“Anything in mind?” echoed Laurie. “I haven’t. At least, only—”
Miss Comfort’s return with a dish of cake stopped him.
A little later they were outside again, walking silently away from the little white house with the brown shutters. When they were at last out of sight of the front windows Polly turned eagerly toward Laurie.
“What were you going to say?” she demanded. “You have thought of some plan, haven’t you?”
Laurie hesitated, frowning thoughtfully. “Not much of a one,” he answered. “I guess it doesn’t amount to anything. Only—well, now look here, doesn’t it seem that there ought to be some place somewhere in this town that would do for her? It wouldn’t have to be much, would it? Maybe just a sort of shed that could be fixed up and made comfortable? Or a nice stable that has rooms above it. You know some stables have quarters for the coachman or chauffeur or gardener. Maybe—”
“Why, I think it’s a perfectly stunning idea!” cried Polly. “No one thought of that!”
“But she’d have to pay rent just the same, wouldn’t she?” asked Ned dubiously. “Some rent, anyhow? And she said—”
“If we explained about her,” said Polly, “I’m sure no one would think of asking rent for just a stable attic—” Laurie’s chuckles interrupted. “Well, whatever you call it. Loft, isn’t it? Anyhow, perhaps just a—a nominal rent would be all they’d ask.”
“Why don’t we look right now and see if we can’t find something?” asked Mae excitedly.