Chapter 7 A STRANGE RECEPTION

Frantically, Doris and Kitty called to Wags and in response to their commands he reluctantly returned to them. The man who had fallen scrambled to his feet, and stood glaring angrily at the girls.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry," Doris apologized. "Wags isn't really vicious. He was just playing."

"Playing!" the man snapped. "You call that playing!" As Wags again came toward him he raised his foot to kick him.

"Don't!" Doris pleaded. "I tell you it was an accident."

She caught the dog up in her arms and held him away.

"What do you want here anyway?" the man asked rudely.

The first drops of rain were beginning to fall and as a vivid streak of lightning flashed above the house, the girls cringed.

"Please, may we come in?" Doris begged.

Silently the man held the door open for them but he scowled as they passed through. They entered a large kitchen. Before they had time to take stock of it, a stout, slovenly woman who was mopping the floor, bore wrathfully down upon them.

"You can't come in here with that dog!" she told them. "Can't you see I've just finished mopping up this big ark of a kitchen?"

Chilled by this reception, the girls hastily backed toward the door.

"What is it you want?" the woman asked, less harshly.

"We came to see the Misses Gates," Doris explained. "They're expecting us."

"Oh!" A peculiar expression flashed over the woman's face. She was silent for an instant and then she said: "You came to the wrong door. This is our quarter."

"And you are-"

"Cora Sully. I take care of the house. This is my husband, Henry, and I'll tell you right now there ain't a lazier man alive!"

Somewhat embarrassed at such brutal frankness, Doris and Kitty continued to edge toward the door.

"Go around to the side door and I'll let you in proper, else the old maids'll be put out." Then she added more gently: "We're not much used to company here."

As the girls were about to close the door behind them, she called shrilly:

"You can't take the dog in!"

Still carrying their suitcases, and with Wags trotting at their heels, Doris and Kitty made their way toward the side door. It was beginning to rain hard.

"What a horrible woman!" Kitty shuddered. "Now, what can we do with Wags?"

"We can't let him run wild in the storm, that's certain. I have an idea!"

They had reached the shelter of the side veranda and Doris set her suitcase down and began to unfasten the strap.

"What are you doing?" Kitty demanded.

"I'm going to tie Wags under the porch. He'll be out of the rain there."

"It's mean of that woman not to let us take him in," Kitty said.

She helped her chum fix the dog, but they were forced to drag him under the porch by main force, for he was reluctant to leave them. By the time they had fastened him securely in his shelter, they were thoroughly drenched themselves.

"What sights we are!" Doris declared. "I wonder if that woman ever will let us in?"

"Here she comes now," Kitty said in a low tone.

The door swung open and Cora, wearing a clean white apron which she had donned for the occasion, ushered them into a long hall.

"Right this way," she directed.

They followed her into a spacious living room, bright and cheerful, but furnished in rather prim and old-fashioned style. A fire was burning in the grate.

"Two young ladies to see you," Cora announced.

The Misses Gates promptly arose and, putting aside their sewing, eagerly came forward to greet the girls. Cora took their suitcases and wraps and left them.

"I am so glad you came," one of the ladies said in a soft, sweet voice. "When this storm gathered so quickly, we were afraid you might be caught in it." She smiled apologetically. "Our home isn't as modern as it once was, but Azalea and I will try to make you comfortable here."

As she sank back into the restful depths of a big chair, Doris had an opportunity to study the two sisters.

Iris and Azalea quite obviously were twins, for they looked alike and they dressed identically. Their voices, too, were similar-low, musical and soft. They looked rather frail and delicate, Doris thought, and their faces were finely chiseled like that of a cameo. They wore simple, long, white cotton dresses. Had it not been for their snow white hair, Doris would not have guessed that they had long since left their youth behind.

If the girls had been disappointed at their first reception, they no longer had any doubt of their welcome. Azalea and Iris set them at ease by maintaining a pleasant, light conversation. It was apparent to Doris that they were both well educated, though they seemed to take little interest in modern-day topics.

"I don't believe they know much about what has been going on in the world for the last ten years," Doris told herself.

Before fifteen minutes had elapsed, she found herself quite captivated by the two ladies, and Kitty, too, had forgotten her former uneasiness.

As the afternoon advanced, the girls found themselves more and more comfortable, looking forward to a pleasant visit.

"No doubt you wondered why we invited you here," Iris said after a time, addressing Doris.

"Well, yes, I did," she admitted.

"It's a long story. Azalea and I-"

Her voice trailed off as Cora Sully appeared in the doorway.

"Supper is served," she announced.

Iris arose to lead the way to the dining room.

"The story must wait," she said with a smile. "I know you girls are far more interested in food just now."

"I am a bit hungry," acknowledged Doris with a pleasant smile, as she and Kitty followed the twins into the next room where Cora was putting the finishing touches to the table.

Kitty kept close to her chum. Doris caught her eye. In a whisper she heard Kitty ask her about the dog outside, as she motioned toward the food-Kitty wanted Wags to be remembered.

"Wait!" signalled Doris, as the group took seats about the table.

But would the dog wait?