“It was all my fault, Mary. I advised you and forced you to do it. It was not exactly dishonest, but it wasn’t sincere, and I am beginning to think Miss Gray is suspicious of me, too.”
Another thing had happened which made Billie uncomfortably and extremely ill at ease in her mind. Burglars had broken into Mrs. Price’s home, but they had only succeeded in giving Mary and her mother a great fright, and had taken nothing.
In her heart Billie knew what the robbers really wanted. It was the box of jewels locked up in Mrs. Price’s safe.
“I have done wrong,” she kept saying to herself. “Papa always said that my heart ruled my head and that I had no judgment. I should never have burdened Mary and Mrs. Price with that wretched box. I am almost superstitious about it, because it brings so much bad luck on people. After the house party, I shall take it away.”
As a matter of fact, everything was postponed until after the house party, and the world for eight young people seemed to stand still. The English nation could not look forward with greater eagerness to the Coronation than our four Motor Maids and their friends to Percy’s Hallowe’en house party. It was only a part of the good fortune which always followed Percy that Hallowe’en that year fell on Friday, and that the weather was perfect.
They were to have three evenings of fun and frolic with the Hallowe’en ball on Friday night.
In the joy of anticipation and preparation, Billie and Mary lost sight of their troubles. Nancy was bubbling over with delight and Elinor forgot her usual sense of dignity and gave an indecorous exhibition of happiness by doing a Dutch twirl all by herself.
“Of course, we shall all go in ‘The Comet,’” announced Billie. “It will be lots more fun than driving behind those poky old carriage horses that bring Percy and Mrs. St. Clair in to church every Sunday.”
There was, indeed, only one flaw in their happiness. Mrs. St. Clair, who was intimate with the Rogers family, had insisted on inviting Belle Rogers.
“Who cares?” exclaimed Billie. “She can’t interfere with our good time and we certainly won’t interfere with hers.”
The St. Clair place was eight miles outside of West Haven on the main road. A long avenue bordered with immense pine trees led up to the commodious, comfortable old house which seemed to reflect from its shining windows the cheerful and hospitable character of its mistress.