"I'm not Prudence!" Wendell shouted. "I'm Wendell."
"Wendell? Jesus Christ. Are you two Canadian or something? I can't imagine any Americans naming their kids Prudence and Wendell." Someone shushed the man behind the door again. "I'm just saying they got lousy names."
"Samantha, if you're in there, please come out. We're not mad at you. We want to help you."
"For the last time, she's not in here. Scram."
"What's that mean?" Prudence asked Wendell.
"It means get the hell out of here!" the man shouted. "I'm too busy to fool around with a couple of nosy kids."
"We're not leaving until you open the door and let us see Samantha," Wendell said. "We know she's in there." He didn't know this for certain, but he was reasonably sure the second voice he'd heard belonged to Samantha. Maybe his bluff would cause her to come out of this cretin's room so they could talk.
The two voices behind the door whispered in a fierce argument, and although Prudence couldn't hear what they said, she knew the second voice belonged to Samantha. "We only want to talk," Prudence said. "Whatever happened with Mrs. Milton doesn't matter to us. We don't care. We love you, Samantha. Please open the door."
"I love you too, Prudence," Samantha said through the door. "I'll be down to talk with you two later, but right now Joseph and I have some things to discuss. Can you give us a few minutes alone?"
"Of course," Wendell said. In his relief, he jumped up to hug Prudence. Samantha had come back! He would finally have his chance to set things right with her.
His ankle no longer bothered him as he bounded down the stairs. Then he followed Prudence to the living room to sit on the couch in front of the television again. He stared at the screen without following the program, hoping he didn't look too anxious. He didn't want Samantha to see his desperation.
The minutes soon dragged into hours and still Samantha didn't come down as promised. Wendell grew worried, but he didn't want to go upstairs and plead with her to come down again. Who was this Joseph person anyway? he began to wonder. Mr. Pryde's son, he knew that much, but what did he mean to Samantha? The longer the wait grew, the more this troubled him.
Prudence started to wring her hands after the first hour. Samantha had promised to come down and talk. What were she and this Joseph doing up there? Prudence wanted to go upstairs to ask, but worried if she did Samantha might never come down.