As they turned into the road that led through the fields, a taxi was stopping in front of the boat house, and a woman got out of it.
“Why, that’s Mrs. Mayfield!” Maggie said, aloud.
Harolds drove steadfastly on, making no comment. The taxi turned back, and passed them, in a little cloud of dust.
“Thank you,” Maggie said to Harolds as he held open the door of the car.
He bent his head with dignity, and stood beside the car while she went up on the porch where Mrs. Mayfield still stood, ringing the doorbell.
“Maggie,” she said, “there doesn’t seem to be anyone at home.”
“I don’t think the door’s locked, ma’am,” said Maggie, and it was not. She opened it and they entered.
“What a peculiar little house!” said Mrs. Mayfield, looking about her at the dining-room.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Maggi
