Cicely stepped out from the dusky library and stood before them. Her eyes, dazzled by the sudden glare of light, had a strained, frightened expression; but there was no suggestion of faltering in her bearing and in the poise of her head.
"What is it, Cousin Theodora?" she asked. "You were talking about papa and me; weren't you?"
Surprised at her sudden appearing, both Billy and Theodora were silent. Then Theodora put her arm around Cicely's waist and drew the girl down on the arm of her chair. The motion was womanly and gentle and protecting; but it was not enough to satisfy Cicely. She must have the truth.
"Please tell me," she said again with a ring of authority in her voice.
"I'm not a baby; and, whatever it is, I ought to know it."
"To-night's paper reports the failure of Everard and Clark," Billy said quietly. "It may be an error, Cis, and it may not be a bad failure. I wouldn't worry till I knew the truth of it."
She looked straight into his face, and her own face grew white; but she neither exclaimed nor bewailed. There was a short hush. Then she said steadily,—
"Let me see the paper, please."
Silently Billy handed her the paper. Silently she read to the end the sensational account of the failure of the well-known banking firm.
"Is anybody to blame?" she demanded then.
Billy read her secret fear, and was glad that he could answer it with perfect truth.