hearty, âbut Althea was having one of her spells this morning and I had to scold her out of it. She keeps imagining thingsâIâm quite worried. Of course we have had a lot of excitement recently, but Iâm afraid sheâs going off the deep endâââ She shook her head, a crease between her brows.
âIâm eager to meet Althea,â I said.
âYou will, dear. Sheâs divine, actually, though hardly a day passes that we donât go at it like a couple of cats. But then our quarrels are so stim ulating. Poor thingâs been a bit under the weather lately what with all thatâs been going on. Susan, dear, do sit down. Donât hover!â
Aunt Agatha sprawled out on the Victorian sofa, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on the arm, her long body completely relaxed. I sat in one of the yellow chairs, and Earl padded over to lay his heavy head in my lap, his eyes looking up at me with slavish devotion. I scratched his ears, still a little perturbed by this sudden outpouring of affection.
âTell me, dear,â Aunt Agatha said. âDid you have a nice journey down?â
âThe train ride was uneventful,â I replied, âthough I had a dandy time at the inn last night.â
âYou spent the night at the inn?â
I nodded. âThere was no one to meet me,â I said, âand it was pouring rain. The room was quite pleasant, but the innkeeperâââ
âCharlie Graysonâs tetched,â she interrupted. âPoor thingâs always been a bit slow , though heâs a fine, responsible lad, quite capable of running the inn. Heâs an amiable sortâthough distracted! What happened?â
I related my experiences at the inn, telling her about Charlieâs curious attitude, the mysterious conversation I had overheard, and the message someone had slipped under my door. Aunt Agatha laughed uproariously, shaking her head.
âYou blundered into the middle of one of our famous illicit affairs,â she said. âTheyâre rampant in Gordonville. You see, we get very poor reception on the telly, dear. What else is one to do ? Gordonvilleâs a veritableâwhatâs that place in America? There was a book about it, I believe, and a television seriesâââ
âPeyton Place?â
âGordonvilleâs a veritable Peyton Place, though you wouldnât guess it on first sight. So quaint and serene on the surface, but sub rosa âââ
âWhat about the note?â I protested. âSurely thatâââ
âOh, I have no doubt Charlie slipped the note under your door, afraid youâd talk about what youâd overheard and give the inn a bad name. He tries to run a respectable inn, though I must say his conduct hasnât always been blameless. Involved in a rather delicious scandal himself, he was, a few months agoâââ
Her eyes danced with glee as she told me about Charlieâs affair with a young actress who had come down from London to stay at the inn. According to Aunt Agatha, the girl had been stunning, a rather mysterious figure in Gordonville. No one knew who she was or why she had come, but Charlie had been fascinated by her. She had her bit of fun, leading him on, no doubt finding it amusing to toy with the affections of a boy much younger and obviously smitten.
âShameless hussy!â my aunt exclaimed. âProbably couldnât pay for her room. People were outraged, I donât mind telling you. Charlie may be a bit peculiar, but he is a strikingly handsome lad, quite virile. Several local girls would like nothing better than to snare him. Heâs dependable, and he owns the inn, and thereâs plenty whoâd consider themselves lucky to marry his likes. Good husband material isnât all that common in these parts.â
âWhat happened to the actress?â I inquired.
âNo one knows. She