“There’s a reason for it,” she told herself, “and I’m going to find out what it is.”
Just then Florence’s father, Dr. Blackwell, a tall, distinguished-looking, gray-haired man, came up the stairs. “Good morning, young ladies,” he greeted them pleasantly. “You look quite fresh and rested after keeping such late hours.”
“We’re feeling the best ever,” Jo Ann answered.
“Well, you certainly look it,” he declared, glancing from one to the other. “Florence, you have more color in your cheeks than I’ve seen for a long time. Miss Jo and Miss Peggy are having a good effect on you already.”
“Oh, Daddy, we’re having a wonderful time! But did you know there’s a mystery about our house? We’ve just made the queerest discovery!”
Dr. Blackwell laughed. “What is it, may I ask—some mysterious writing on the wall, or a pot of gold?”
“Neither. We’ve found a window that isn’t a window. It opens on the outside of the house but not on the inside.”
“Well, now, that’s strange, isn’t it?” he replied smilingly, as though humoring a small child.
“Really, Dr. Blackwell, there’s a mysterious window that should open at the end of this hall!” exclaimed Jo Ann, “but we can find no trace of an opening ever having been there.”
At that moment Felipe, combination chauffeur and house boy, announced lunch, and the subject was dropped as they all hastened into the dining room.