"It occurred to me yesterday, in connection with this affair, to look up some of the old diaries I used to keep in the China days. They have been stored away in the attic in a chest for years, but I got them out and have been running over them, hoping to come across an entry that might have some bearing on the matter in question. And, quite to my chagrin, I did discover this. I will quote it, just as it stands: Today Carringford was married according to native customs. None of us invited.
"But here's the point of departure, so to speak. This entry was made on March 10, 1890, and you see it doesn't agree at all with the inscription on your bracelet, which is, I believe, September 25, 1889. So, of course, the only inference that can be drawn is that they were two separate and distinct affairs that have absolutely no connection. So sorry! Anything else I can do for you, I'll be delighted, etc., etc."
The captain did not finish the remainder of the letter, for the excellent reason that no one of his audience was paying the least attention to it.
When he looked up, at this point, Marcia was prone on the couch alternately sobbing and laughing and sobbing again, and Janet was staring out of the window, blinking hard to restrain the tears of relief that would insist on rolling down her cheeks.
And in the midst of this curious state of affairs, who should open the door and walk in but—Aunt Minerva! Suitcase in hand, she stared at the three in amazement for a second till, with a glad cry of recognition, they all rushed upon her and literally snowed her under with embraces.
"I couldn't let you know I was coming, because I didn't know myself till this morning," she explained. "Drusilla's sister Ellen came in unexpectedly from the West, and of course that relieved me. I just packed up in half an hour, and here I am. Whatever is the matter with you all? When I came in you looked as if you'd just attended the funeral of your last friend. I hope Eliza hasn't given you all indigestion!"
"We'll tell you after dinner, Minerva," laughed the captain. "It's a long and complicated tale. My, but we're glad to see you again!"
That evening they made her sit down and listen while they rehearsed the story. It had to begin with the description of their day on shipboard, the very day that she had gone away, and ended with the major's final letter.
She listened to it all very quietly and without any comments whatever, except for an indignant and scornful sniff once in a while.
"Well," demanded Marcia, when it was over and they were waiting for her to speak, "what do you think of it?"
"I think," she remarked cryptically, "that you needed Minerva Brett here to manage this affair for you. She would have given you a little better advice than to go off on a wild goose chase down to Pennsylvania on the wrong trail!"