She extended a slender hand, which Jane grasped warmly. A smile passed between the two.
But as Lucy turned down the driveway and the door of the Howe homestead closed, a tragic babel of voices reached her ear, piping in shrill staccato the single word:
“Jane!”
CHAPTER V
A CLASH OF WILLS
When Lucy reached home she found her aunt in the sitting room bending disapprovingly over the basket of undarned stockings.
“I see you haven’t touched these,” she observed, in a chiding tone. “Where’ve you been?”
“I went to get some eggs.”