So she did begin to think about Caroline. The first thought that came into her head was such an extraordinary one that it startled her.
“Anyhow, she’s a pretty lucky girl!”
Lucky? Caroline, who had lived like a prisoner, and who had now so strangely disappeared, lucky—simply because a sunburned, blue-eyed young man was so miserably anxious about her?
“I suppose he’s thinking about her this minute,” Lexy reflected; “and I’m sure nobody in the world is thinking about me. Well, I don’t care!”
VI
The car took them to a drowsy little village, and stopped before a small cottage on a side street. Mrs. Enderby got out, followed by Lexy, the living ghost of Caroline. Side by side they went up the flagged path and on to the porch. Mrs. Enderby rang the bell, and in a moment the door was opened by a thin, sandy-haired woman in spectacles.
“Mrs. Enderby!” she cried, her plain face lighting up in a delighted smile. “And my dear little Caroline!” She held out her hand to Lexy, and suddenly her face changed. “But—” she began.
Mrs. Enderby pushed her gently inside and closed the door.
“But it’s not Caroline!” cried Miss Craigie.
“Hush!” said Mrs. Enderby. “I shall explain to you. Please allow the chauffeur to carry upstairs a small trunk, and please have no air of surprise.”