"Miss Bull told me to be kind to you," she declared, still smiling; and then, with a burst of good nature, "I will be kind. Do you want to know about the papers?"
"If you choose to tell me," said George, artfully, but rejoicing at the opportunity this offered of learning something.
"Yes, I do choose," said Margery. "She asked me to be kind to you."
"Well, then, tell me," replied George, humoring her.
"There was a lease in the green box, and many bills," said Margery, "a few photographs, and that was all. I couldn't see the story."
"What story, Miss Watson?"
Margery nodded with a cunning smile, and answered, in a whisper, as though her aunt was still alive and within hearing. "She told me it was a story she was writing. Oh, such a long story! Sheets and sheets of a story--foolscap sheets. She kept them in a long blue envelope and would not let me see them."
George reflected that evidently Mrs. Jersey had been writing out an account of her early life, and Margery's next words put the matter beyond a doubt. "My aunt said that she would let me have the story to read after she died. But I could not find it in the green box."
"Perhaps you did not look thoroughly," suggested George.
"Yes, I did, and I looked in all other places. But I could not find it. The story was Italian," went on Margery, staring at him, "for when my aunt wasn't looking I peeped. San Remo is in Italy, isn't it?"