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Updated: May 4, 2025
Tuesday morning the family awoke and met at the breakfast table. The air was electric with unrest, and the food almost untouched. It was Mrs. Clayton who broke the long silence that followed the morning's greetings. "I I don't think I 'll do much to get ready for the Bixbys," she began; "I 'm so sure that letter was from them." "You mean that, Julia?" demanded her husband, brightening.
"I should hope so!" exclaimed Elise, with a withering glance. "The idea of anybody being in such company as you must have been " "Not at all," Azalea declared; "I wasn't mixed up with anybody unpleasant at all. In fact, I talked to no one but the Bixbys and Mr. Merritt. Mrs. Bixby was most kind and looked after me as a mother might have done, though I never knew a mother's care."
"No; let's sit on the porch a minute," she preferred. "Come along to this end, then, for I want to say something particular," he urged, and they found a pleasant seat, from which they could see the moon through the leafy wistaria branches. "Look here, Azalea," Gale began, "I know what you're up to, with the Bixbys." "What!" Azalea's voice was full of fear.
But then, of course, it's from the Bixbys; I'm going to think so, anyway," she comforted herself, and resolutely closed her eyes. "If that should be Dennison's letter," mused Mr. Clayton as he locked up the house; "if that should be confound it, and I know it is! I 'd swear it! It serves me right, too, I suppose, for telling him to write me at the house instead of at the office.
The Bixbys two orphan heiresses wish me to take them to Australia, coming back by India. And I suppose," she said, rising impatiently, "if I were to stay away forty years I should find Lucy when I came back, with white hair maybe, but sitting calmly sewing, not caring whether there was a man in the world or not!" Lucy laughed, but did not even blush. Mrs.
She cast a hopeless glance at Van Reypen, and though he smiled at her and started toward her she shook her head and waved him back. "On the trip East, I met the Bixbys, and as we at once arranged for my entrance into their studios, I was more than ever eager to put the matter through. "So I came. Oh, I hate to think how I imposed on the Farnsworths! They were so kind to me, right from the start.
"Are you really positive?" "Yes, really positive. They said all the time that they did n't think they could come, and that without doubt I should get a letter saying so." "Then of course 'twas it," asserted Ethel, her face suddenly clearing. "Of course," echoed her brother with a promptitude that hinted at more than a willingness to be convinced that the letter was the Bixbys' and none other.
It was about ten minutes past five that afternoon when the four Bixbys came. "There, we did get here!" they chorused gleefully. "Yes, yes, I see, I see," murmured Mrs. Clayton, and signaled to Ethel to hurry into the kitchen and give the alarm to the cook. "Then you you did n't write?" "Write? Why, no, of course not! We were n't to, you know, if we could come." "Yes er I mean no," stammered Mrs.
"Yes, and there's no reason you should be so secretive about it." "Oh, Raymond, there is reason! Don't tell on me, will you?" "Of course not, if you forbid it. But when Farnsworth asks me, what am I to say?" "What does he ask you?" "Who the Bixbys are. And other awkward questions. You see, I know old Bixby, and I knew as soon as I saw him here that day that he had drawn you into his snares."
Why, daughter, how could you be so careless?" cried Mrs. Clayton. "It is probably that note from the Bixbys they were to write if they could not come. But I should like to know what they said." "But it might have been to me," cut in Ethel. There was a sudden exclamation across the table as James, the first-born, pushed back his chair. "Confound it, Emily, you've got us in a pretty mess!
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