"recommended as suitable for a girl of seven."

The profusion of toys overwhelmed little Martha. She stood just inside of
the door with her eyes wide, glancing back and forth. She took one slow
step forward, then another. Then she quickened. She moved through the
room looking, then putting out a slow, hesitant hand to touch very
gently. Tense, as if she were waiting for the warning not to touch,
Martha finally caressed the hair of a baby doll.

Mrs. Bagley smiled. "I'll have a time prying her loose from here," she
said.

James nodded his head. "Let her amuse herself for a bit," he said. "With
Martha occupied, you can give your attention to a more delicate matter."

Mrs. Bagley forgot that she was addressing an eight-year-old boy. His
manner and his speech bemused her. "Yes," she said. "I do want to get
this settled with your mysterious Charles Maxwell. Do you expect him
down, or shall I go upstairs--?"

"This may come as a shock, Mrs. Bagley, but Charles Maxwell isn't here."

"Isn't here?" she echoed, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that
she had heard the words but hadn't really grasped their full meaning. "He
won't be gone long, will he?"

James watched her covertly, then said in a matter-of-fact voice, "He left
you a letter."

"Letter?"