“‘Nobody ever found out who the red headed woman and the man were, because they were all burned up in the wreck, and all their luggage.
“‘I had taken care of the baby, thinkin’ I’d keep her until her people were found, but they were never heard from, so I decided to keep her for my own. That baby was you, Sylvia.’
“So that’s all I know about my mother and father,” finished Sylvia with a sigh. “But I can think up the most dazzling things about them!”
“Sylvia,” said Katherine, “who was the man I saw on the stairs of your house the night I came in and found you?”
Sylvia looked at her in wonder. “What man?”
“When I came into the hall there was a man leaning over the banisters about half way up the stairs. When I came in he ran down the stairs and out of the front door.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Sylvia. “No man ever came to the house to see us. I didn’t hear anybody come in that day.”
“But the front door stood open when I came up on the porch,” said Katherine. “That hadn’t been standing open all day, had it?”
“No,” replied Sylvia, “for Aunt Aggie was always careful about closing it when she went out.”
“Then he must have opened it,” said Katherine.