[CHAPTER VII]
SURPRISES ALL AROUND
"How long have you been in New York?" began Janet, when at last they emerged from the little shop.
"About two months," said Cecily. "And I've lived in that place all this time, and have not known why. Miss Benedict has never explained. She acts toward me as if I were a lodger, or—or some one she allowed to stay there for reasons of her own, but didn't particularly want to have about. She's kind to me, but never—friendly. Sometimes she looks at me in the strangest way—I can't imagine what she's thinking about. But why does she live like this?" and she turned inquiring eyes on the girls.
"I'm sure we don't know!" exclaimed Marcia. "We only wonder about it. The house seems to be all shut up."
"Why, it is!" Cecily enlightened them. "And it makes it so dark and gloomy! There is lovely furniture in the drawing-room, but it is all covered over with some brown stuff—even the pictures. And most of the other rooms are not used at all—nothing on the ground floor. I eat down in the basement, and my bedroom is on the top floor—where I looked out that time. I have never been in any of the other bedrooms except Miss Benedict's, when her ankle was bad."
"But what do you do with yourself all day?" asked Janet.
"I keep my room in order, and help Miss Benedict whenever she lets me. Of course, she prepares all the food herself, but in such a pretty, dainty way. But there are a good many hours when the time hangs so heavy on my hands. Sometimes she lets me dust the rooms on the ground floor. She keeps everything very, very neat, even if it is all covered up and never used. The rest of the time I sit in my room and read the few books I brought with me, and tell myself long stories, or listen to your music. I dare not now even peep through the shutters. Once I opened them, when you were playing, but Miss Benedict came in just then and forbade me to do it again."