“They’re locked in her room somewhere, along with her own valuables, and she keeps her door locked, too. She says it’s safer that way in the country.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Well, you see, I do want to please her. So I gave her most of my letters and photos to put away, but I just have to keep a few things with me all the time. I’ve done that ever since my parents died, I suppose it’s awfully sentimental. And of course the silver ring. I couldn’t bear to part with it, even though Mrs. Heath predicts that I’ll lose it gardening, or something.”
“I don’t think you’ll lose your ring,” Vicki said dryly. “I think it’s strange that Mrs. Heath made such a point of putting away your very personal things.”
“No, it isn’t. She locked away all her own things, too. And she says any time I want my things, I only need to ask her.”
“We-ell—Ssh! Do I hear her moving around?”
“Oh, my! Sometimes she knocks on my door when she doesn’t feel well—”
Both girls listened. Lucy put out the lamp, and moonlight poured into the room again. On the other side of the wall Mrs. Heath was stirring. They held their breaths. They heard bedsprings creak, then quiet. Lucy let out a sigh of relief.
“I guess she just turned over in her sleep.”
Nevertheless, they kept perfectly still for a few minutes, and left the lamp off. Lucy ventured to speak again, softly, eagerly.