Cecily looked alarmed. "Is it—is it anything about me?" she faltered. "But perhaps I oughtn't to ask." Marcia looked terribly unhappy at this question, and Janet came to her rescue.
"Yes, it is, Cecily," she declared with assumed cheerfulness. "Captain Brett has stumbled across something that seems as if it might have some connection with your affairs. But we don't want you to hear about it till we are positive. Now don't worry about it, because I'm perfectly certain everything is going to turn out all right. You won't worry, will you?" She put her arm around Cecily and laid her cheek against the golden hair.
"No, I'll try not to," Cecily assured them, "and I'll promise not to ask you another thing about it till you're ready to tell me yourselves." After that she settled down quietly, but it was apparent to the girls that, in spite of her assurances, she was worried and nervous and unhappy. Presently Janet had an inspiration.
"You two sit here. I'm going out for a few moments," she announced, determined to break the tension of unrest and nervousness by some diversion. Nor would she reveal to them what her errand was to be. She returned in twenty minutes, however, with a box of delicious French ice-cream and some dainty cakes. And for the next half-hour they had a gay time in the garden, serving and consuming the welcome treat. In the end they had temporarily quite forgotten the unhappiness of the earlier hour, and when they returned home the two girls left Cecily laughing and cheerful.
Nor did she, all through the ensuing two days, refer in any way to their conversation in the garden. If the matter worried her, she gave no sign, and the girls could not help admiring her self-control.
Three days later, Marcia and Janet went again to spend the afternoon with Cecily, and found to their relief that Miss Benedict was at home. At least, they learned the fact from Cecily. The lady herself they did not see when they entered. And indeed, there was a chance, that they might not have so much as a glimpse of her during their visit, for it frequently happened that she was not visible during an entire afternoon.
Would she speak to them that day? That was the question. And, what was even more important, would they have a chance to speak to her unobserved by Cecily? For they did not wish the girl to overhear what they had to ask, nor even to know that they were seeking an interview with her guardian.
For the major part of the afternoon it did not seem as if their wish would be granted. Miss Benedict did not appear, and so nervous and anxious were they that they could scarcely keep their thoughts on the conversation that Cecily was striving to keep up or, later, on the book they were reading. Cecily had declared that her room seemed very warm, so they were sitting once more in the garden. This also was a disappointment, for it lessened considerably their chances of seeing the lady of their hopes.
Half-past five came round, and still they had not attained their wish. Marcia had just risen, with a resigned sigh, to propose that they take their departure, when the side door opened and Miss Benedict appeared. At the sight of her the hearts of Marcia and Janet gave a delighted thump, and they greeted her with a pleasure, the warmth of which she could not entirely understand.