I looked at her sweet face, and knew it was true. And oh, I was so glad to have a new friend—an old friend, already! For somehow, as always, while the intellectual recollection had faded, the emotion survived. I felt as if I’d known Minnie Moore for years, though I never remembered to have seen her in my life till that minute.
Well, I remained at the Moores’ for a week, and felt quite at home there. They were all very nice, Cousin Willie, and Aunt Emily (she made me call her aunt; she said I’d always done so), and Minnie, and all of them. They were really dear people; and blood, after all, is thicker than water. But I made no haste to push inquiries just at first. I preferred to feel my way. I wanted to find out what they knew, if anything, about Berry Pomeroy.
The first time I ventured to mention the subject to Minnie, she gave a very queer smile—a smile of maidenly badinage.
“Well, you remember THAT, any way,” she said, in a teasing little way, looking down at me and laughing. “I thought you’d remember that. I must say you enjoyed yourself wonderfully at Berry Pomeroy!”
“Remember what?” I cried, all eagerness; for I saw she attached some special importance to the recollection. And yet, it was terrible she should jest about the clue to my father’s murderer!
Minnie looked arch. When she looked arch, she was charming.
“Why, I never saw you prettier or more engaging in your life than you were that day,” she said evasively, as if trying to pique me. “And you flirted so much, too! And everybody admired you so. Everybody on the grounds... especially one person!”
I looked up at her in surprise. I was in my own room, seated by the dressing-table, late at night, when we’d gone up to bed; and Minnie was beside me, standing up, with her bedroom candle in that pretty white little hand of hers.
“What do you mean?” I exclaimed eagerly. “Was it a dance—or a picnic?”
“Oh, you know very well,” Minnie went on teasingly, “though you pretend you forget. HE was there, don’t you know. You must remember HIM, if you’ve forgotten all the rest of your previous life. You say you remember the appropriate emotions. Well, he was an emotion: at least, you thought so. It was an Athletic Club Meeting: and Dr. Ivor was there. He went across on his bicycle.”