"Certainly, she ought to know!" she declared positively. "There must be some reason why that child has been sent to her, and she ought to be told all the facts concerning her. Who knows but what she may have some explanation of this bracelet mystery! You tell her the very next time you go in. And don't forget to take a jar of that quince marmalade, besides." Aunt Minerva had determined on keeping Cecily well supplied with toothsome dainties, which commodities, she keenly suspected, were scarce in the big house. In fact, the girls had told her that the marketing for that establishment, so far as they had seen, seemed to consist mainly of milk and eggs, rice and prunes!
So a day or two after, when they visited Cecily again, they planned to have an interview with her guardian. Marcia was shy about broaching the subject, so the task was left to Janet, who, being anxious to settle the matter immediately, began it as soon as the gate was opened.
"Miss Benedict," she said, "there is something quite strange about Cecily that we should like to tell you. Could you spare a few moments to hear about it?"
"Why—er—of course!" replied the little black-veiled lady, in a rather startled voice. "Will you—er—that is, I will come to her room in a little while—if you will kindly close the shutters—first!" And she directed them to proceed upstairs, without this time accompanying them.
Cecily was overjoyed at their appearance. She was sitting by the window, fully dressed, the sunshine streaming in on her, transforming her curls into a radiant halo. A definite change had come over her during the last few days, caused, no doubt, by the enjoyment of light and sunshine and companionship. She was losing some of her former wan, wistful, frightened aspect, and assuming more of the confiding, sunny characteristics that were natural to her. At the moment the girls entered she was reading a magazine brought by them on their previous visit.
After the first greetings and chat they reported their conversation with Miss Benedict.
"She's coming up soon," ended Marcia, "and we must get the shutters closed. But what on earth for? Why can't she be like ordinary people and enjoy the air and sunshine like the rest of us? Do you know, Cecily?"
"No, I can't imagine. It has all seemed very strange to me ever since I came. But you know how odd Miss Benedict is. I can't abide asking her any questions, and she never explains anything. The whole house is darkened like this all the time, and since she let me open my shutters, she's never once been in this room in the daytime. She never goes out without that heavy veil, not even into the garden. I don't understand it!"
"Do you know," suggested Marcia, half under her breath, "one would almost think she had done something wrong and was ashamed of showing her face in the daylight. I've heard of such things. And that would explain some other queer things about this place, too, like—"
"Hush!" warned Janet. "I hear her coming."