“That’s the happy part. We finished 1890 today, and that’s as far back as we’re going to go, unless this batch turns up nothing for us. Then, I suppose, we’ll try another ten years before we quit. My guess is that anything built before 1880 wouldn’t be worth looking into anyway. If it were still standing, it would probably be an old rat’s nest.”
Maggie smiled. “Don’t let May Berriman hear you say anything like that. This beautiful old house that we’re living in was built in 1878, and it’s hardly a rat’s nest! And you’ve passed the house that Washington Irving lived in, just a few blocks south of here? It’s still a fine-looking house, and I don’t know how old it is, but Washington Irving died in 1859, so it’s got to be a lot older than that!”
“Oh, Maggie!” Peggy wailed. “You haven’t made me feel the least bit better! I thought I had a logical date to stop looking, and that made things easier somehow. Now you’ve opened up the whole thing again!”
“Oh, don’t start to feel sorry for yourself yet,” Greta put in. “You have a lot of work to do on the theaters you’ve found since 1890 before you start to think further back. And you may find just what you want in that list.”
“I sure hope so,” Peggy agreed, smiling wanly. “But I’ll never find it by lying here and talking. I’d better get back to work.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Amy said. “What you’d better do now is go upstairs and take a shower and fix yourself up! Don’t forget it’s Friday night, we’ve got a date tonight, and you have a lot to do before the boys come.”
“But, Amy, it’s still early, isn’t it?” Peggy asked. Then, with a glance at the grandfather clock in the corner, she gasped. “Oh! Six o’clock already and they’re coming at seven! And I haven’t even begun! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sweeping up all her papers, notebooks, and other gear in a single gesture, she bounced out of the room with Amy right behind her, protesting that she hadn’t realized herself how late it had grown, and that she too had a lot to do to get ready, and....
But before she could finish her sentence, Peggy had dropped her papers, grabbed a towel and bathrobe and raced for the bathroom. With the door held open the merest crack, Peggy peeped through, grinning broadly at Amy, who stood in the hall still apologizing.
“You’re forgiven,” Peggy said impishly, “but your punishment for loafing and not watching the time while I was working is that I get the bathroom first!” Then she quickly shut the door before her friend could push her way through.