Later when Dories went into her aunt’s room to remove the breakfast tray, she bent over the bed to arrange the pillows more comfortably. Then she tripped about, tidying the room. Chancing to turn, she found the dark, deeply sunken eyes of the elderly woman watching her with an expression that was hard to define. Jane Moore smiled faintly at the girl, and there was a tone of wistfulness in her voice as she said, “I suppose you and Nann will be away all day again.”
“Why, Aunt Jane,” Dories heard herself saying as she went to the bedside, “were you lonely? Would you like to have me stay for a while this morning and read to you?”
Even as she spoke she seemed to see her mother’s smiling face and hear her say, “The only ghosts that haunt us are the memories of loving deeds left undone and kind words that might have been spoken.” As yet Dories had not even thought of trying to do anything to add to her aunt’s pleasure. She was gratified to see the brightening expression. “Well, that would be nice! If you will read to me until I fall asleep, I shall indeed be glad.”
Nann, who had come to the door, had heard, and, as the girls left the room, she slipped an arm about her friend, saying, “That was mighty nice of you, Dori, for I know how much pleasanter it would be for you to go for a boat ride with Gibralter. I’ll stay with you if you wish.”
“No, indeed, Nann. You go and see if you can’t find another clue to the mystery.”
“I feel in my bones that we will,” that maiden replied as she poured hot water over the few breakfast dishes. “It would be rather a good joke on—well—on the ghost, if we solved the mystery sooner than twelve days. Don’t you think so?”
“But there are so many things that puzzle us,” Dories protested. “I wish we might catch whoever it is leaving those messages. That, at least, would be one mystery solved.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Nann said brightly. “Let’s put on our thinking caps and try to find some way to trap the ghost tonight. Well, good-bye for now! Gib and I will be back soon, I am sure. I’m just wild to go for a little sail with him in his queer punt boat.”
Dories stood in the open front door watching as her friend ran lightly across the hard sand, climbed to a boulder and beckoned to the boy who was not far away.
With a half sigh Dories went into her aunt’s room. Catching a glimpse of her own reflection in a mirror she was surprised to behold a fretful expression which plainly told that she was doing something that she did not want to do in the least. She smiled, and then turning toward the bed, she asked, “What shall I read, Aunt Jane?”