After a tour of the room and a look out of its two windows, one of which opened upon a balcony that stretched away the length of the house, Janet again sat down near the table and looked up at the picture above, when the sudden opening of her door startled her.
A straight, angular woman, with dark hair gathered into a little knot on top of her head, stalked into the room with a large comforter in her arms. She wore spectacles, but as they were drooping upon her nose Janet thought that they were not of much use. A woolen dress under an enveloping gingham apron and shoes whose tops were hidden by the dress which came to her ankles, completed the picture.
She did not see Janet until she was well into the room, and started back a little. “Miss Jannet!” she exclaimed under her breath. Then she recovered herself and stalked to the bed to lay the comforter and a blanket, which it had concealed from view, across the foot. “You’re here, then,” she continued. “You look like your ma. You will need some extra covers to-night. It’s turning colder now. I’ll have a fire made in the fireplace. Your ma liked this room because she could have one. But I wouldn’t sleep here for anything.”
“Why?” Janet asked.
“The room is ha’nted,” replied the woman, leaving the room in the same stiff way, without another word.
Janet’s rather sober face relaxed into a broad smile. This must be “Old P’lina!” Later Janet was to find out that the name was Paulina, Paulina Stout.
But “ha’nted,” or not “ha’nted,” the room was fascinating. It was hers. No other room in the house could seem like that. What had Uncle Pieter said about her “having some rights in the home of her ancestors?” This should be one of them, then, to occupy her mother’s room.
Supper was served in due time. The dining-room seemed large for the size of the present family, but Janet understood from what Mrs. Holt had told her that there was often considerable entertainment of guests. She wondered, for she could not imagine Uncle Pieter in the role of affable host. He appeared to be preoccupied and joined little in the conversation, which was largely between Cousin Diana and Cousin Andy. Once he asked Mrs. Holt when her mother would be back, and inquired about John’s coming. So Cousin Di had a mother who made her home there, too.
Janet was wondering about many things, but she remembered Miss Hilliard’s caution, not to be in too much of a hurry to find out everything. “It will take you a little while to become adjusted to the new place and the new people, Janet,” she had said. “One learns about people slowly sometimes. Be patient.”
Janet knew that it was not her nature to be patient. Perhaps no one is patient by nature. Patience is a grace to be cultivated. Janet’s consideration for others, nevertheless, kept her from blundering into questions or comments that were not proper. A sense of propriety was almost inherent with her and served her well in this experience among strangers.