For a little while Jannet sat and read a few of the letters. It could do no harm. They were from girl friends, some of them to accompany wedding presents or to announce their impending arrival. “May you have a long and happy life together,” said one. “Douglas is a dear. I had an eye on him myself, but it was of no use, with you singing the heart out of him!”
Girls then were much as they were now, Jannet thought. From her short span of years it did seem so long ago.
Pulling out her mother’s trunk had disclosed a small box behind it, a pretty box of dark wood, stained and rubbed like the nice furniture of the house. The lock was of gilt, a little discolored, but the whole looked like something valuable, or at least interesting. Jannet tried all her keys without success and then, without thinking more of the box, she went back to the trunk, becoming deeply engaged in the contents of a little pasteboard box which was full of funny notes and the treasures of her mother’s younger days. There was even a tiny doll, dressed in a wee silken dress with a train. And in the bottom of the box there was a brass key,—the very one which might fit the little dark box. Replacing the pasteboard box, Jannet with some curiosity tried the key and found that it opened the other box.
A piece of old muslin covered the contents. This Jannet raised to find an old doll with a cloth body, some doll clothes, stained and faded and under these some doll dishes, carefully packed.
These could not have been her mother’s. They were too old, too odd. Suddenly it seemed lonesome. Jannet began to feel nervous and depressed. She blamed herself for being a little goose, not in the least realizing that a sensitive girl of her sympathies could not help having her feelings worn upon a little by all this.
Jumping up from locking the little box again, Jannet closed the trunk which was proving to be such a treasure chest. She had scarcely disturbed part of it, and there were other delightful possibilities in prospect before her. She must have Nell over soon, for while she could go on by herself, and in a way she preferred to find her mother’s things by herself, still,—Nell was sensible, smart and good company. She would take an interest, too, in discovering any source of ghostly revels. If Nell were afraid, this part of the attic, at least, offered no signs of anything but ordinary storage.
Now, if she could only conciliate Paulina in some way and hear all that “old P’lina” thought about it. That was a good plan! She would try it!
CHAPTER XIII
UNCLE PIETER AS AN ALLY
Promptly at ten o’clock the next morning, Jannet was waiting in the library for her uncle. She had timidly said at breakfast, “I will be in the library at ten, Uncle Pieter,” and he had replied, “Very well, Jannet.”
She had brought with her the little slip of paper which she had found in the book. If she had opportunity, she was going to sound him about it, or show it to him, provided she could screw her courage to the point. Just why she should be afraid of her Uncle Pieter, Jannet did not know, but he did not invite confidences. She was sure that he had not the least sentiment about him. But she was not ready to accept any gossip about him. She would find out for herself what sort of a man her uncle was.