"Child, I suppose you wonder very much at this queer life I lead!"
"'Child, I suppose you wonder very much at this queer life I lead, don't you?' I said, yes, I couldn't help wondering about it. Then she turned away her head and whispered:
"'Oh, if you only knew, you would not wonder! I have been very unhappy. My life has been very unhappy!' All I could think of to answer her was that I was so sorry, and she need not tell me anything she didn't wish to. I would never ask about it. And she raised herself up in bed, and said:
"'That's just it, dear child. I have always supposed that young folks were one and all curious, inquisitive, and thoughtless. That is one reason I was so—so strict with you—in the beginning. But you and those two nice girls next door have been a revelation to me.'
"Wasn't that lovely of her?" exclaimed Cecily, interrupting herself.
"Just darling!" cried Marcia. "But do go on, Cecily. We're crazy to hear what came next!"
"Well, next she said: 'People think I live a very singular life, I know. They think I'm eccentric—queer—crazy, even! Oh, I know it! But there are few alive to-day—and none in this neighborhood—who even guess at the real reason, who—remember!' And then she put her hand to her head as if it was aching badly, and dropped back on the pillow. She was very quiet for a while, but at last she looked up again and said: 'Little Cecily, would you care to have a home with me always? Would you be willing to put up with my queerness and peculiarities, and some of the strange conditions here?' And I answered, indeed, yes; if I could go out once in a while and visit you girls occasionally, I should very much like to stay. And she said:
"'Of course you shall, dear. You have been dreadfully shut in here, but that was before I knew you so well. I was not sure I wanted to keep you before, but now I know that I do. I only ask you to be as considerate of me as you can. Some day, I feel certain, I shall lose my sight. I know that it is coming. When it does come, I shall have to depend very, very much on you. I and one other. You will not fail me then, will you, Cecily?'
"Girls, I could have cried then and there—I felt so sorry for her. And I told her she could always depend on me, no matter what happened. I had no other home and no one else to care for me except you girls. And after that she told me the story about herself—at least, some of it. I can't tell it in her words, so I'll use my own. But this is it: