It was nearly half-past two when Mrs. Crabtree and Maggie had finished their lunch and the last of the dishes was dried and put away.
“Are you coming upstairs now, Mrs. Crabtree?” Maggie asked.
“No,” said Mrs. Crabtree. “No, Maggie, I think I’ll stop here a bit and read my paper.”
That was bad news for Maggie. Mr. Camford was home this afternoon, and she dreaded the prospect of meeting him alone in the hall. She hated his way of looking at her, an annoyed and embarrassed way, as if she were an intruder from another world. As if she were a servant, a mere servant. And she was not. She might be employed here as a maid; but that was of no significance, it was only temporary. She was a high school graduate, and a very proud girl.
“No,” Mrs. Crabtree said again, “I want to read about this m
