CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
On a lazy afternoon, a few days later, as Anna and Margaret were reading and having tea in the library, John dashed into the room, out of breath and all in a tizzy.
“Anna, Alva Belmont is here for you. And she is all in a dither. She practically bit my head off.”
“I wonder what she wants,” said Margaret.
“Let’s go see,” said Anna.
“And right away,” said John. “I’m afraid she’ll start breaking things if you don’t.”
Anna and Margaret went to the parlor to find Alva pacing, even more so than usual.
“Hello, Alva,” said Anna. “Is something wrong?”
“Anna, this is terrible. Terrible news.”
“My, what is it?” asked Margaret.
“I don’t even know how to say this,” said Alva.
“Oh dear,” said Anna. “Would you like some tea? We can have some brought in.”
“I think I need s
