"I'd rather
stay here than anywhere in the world."
"Well, you can't stay," said Madam, whose small stock of courtesy had
been exhausted on her initial speech. "My granddaughter is bringing some
girls home with her for the Easter vacation, and I need your room."
"But I'll sleep in the third story," urged Quin wildly. "You can billet
me any old place--I don't care _where_ you put me."
"No," said Madam firmly. "It's best for you to go."
That night at dinner the sisters did what they could to soften the blow
for Quin. They gave vague excuses that did not excuse, and explanations
that did not explain.
"Of course, we have no idea of losing sight of you," Miss Enid said with
forced brightness. "You must drop in often to tell us how you are getting
along and to make mother laugh. You are the only person I know who can do
that."
"Yes, and we shall count on you to come to supper every Sunday evening,"
Miss Isobel added; "then we can go to church together."
"Next Sunday?" asked Quin, faintly hopeful.
"Well, no," said Miss Isobel. "For the next two weeks we shall be
occupied with the young ladies and their friends; but after that we shall
look for you.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163