“I was not going to.”
“He would want to know who I was writing to, and ask me such a lot of questions. You won’t tell him, will you?”
“No,” I said, “not unless he asks me, and then I must.”
“Oh, he won’t ask you,” she said merrily; “no fear. Now I’ll go and tell him.”
I sat down, wondering why she should want to keep things from her brother, and then watched Mrs Hallett, and lastly began thinking about the room upstairs—Old Bluebeard’s chamber, as Linny playfully called it—and tried to puzzle out what Stephen Hallett was making. That it was something to improve his position I was sure, and I had often thought of what hard work it must be, with so little time at his disposal, and Mrs Hallett so dead set against what she openly declared to be a folly, and miserable waste of money.
My musings were brought to an end by the reappearance of Linny, who came down holding her pretty little white hand to me.
“There, sir,” she said, “you may kiss my hand; and mind, you and I have a secret between us, and you are not to tell.”
I kissed her hand, and she nodded playfully.
“Now, sir, Bluebeard’s chamber is open to you, and you may go up.”
“Go? Upstairs?”