Margaret went over duly that evening, meaning to be very friendly to the strange young woman; but it happened to be one of Mrs. Peyton's bad times, and she sent down word that she needed Miss Wolfe, and could not possibly spare her. Margaret left a civil message, and went home disappointed, and yet the least bit relieved: she had rather dreaded a long tête-à-tête with her new neighbor.
"How absurd you are, Margaret Montfort," she said, severely, as she walked across the park. "Here you have been longing for a girl to talk to, and the moment one comes, you are seized with what Peggy calls 'the shyies,' just because she happens to be cut from a different pattern from your own."
Hugh was on the verandah, waiting for her, and seemed really disappointed when he heard that she had not seen Miss Wolfe; that showed how wide and cordial his interest was, and how much thought he took for others, Margaret told herself. What could he care about the meeting of a cousin he had just begun to know with a girl whom he never had seen?
Next day, however, she forgot all about Miss Wolfe, for the time being. Gerald and Philip Merryweather had accepted Mr. Montfort's invitation with amazing alacrity, and Jean had telegraphed her rapture of anticipation from Ohio. Uncle John and Hugh were left to their own devices, while she plunged, with Elizabeth and Frances and Polly, into intricacies of hospitable preparation. Stores must be ordered, linen examined, silver and china looked out. In regard to the silver, Margaret had an experience that showed her that, even after two years, she did not know all the resources of Fernley House. Her uncle called her into his study after breakfast, and handed her a key of curious pattern. "This is the key of the iron cupboard, Margaret," he said. Seeing her look of surprise, he added, "You surely know about the iron cupboard, my dear?"
"No, Uncle John. I remember hearing Aunt Faith speak of something of the kind once, but I did not rightly understand, and, being shy then,—it was before I knew our Dear so well,—I did not like to ask."
"Oh, there is no mystery, my child. No secret staircase this time, no ghosts in velvet jackets. But in a house like Fernley, that has been inhabited for many generations, there is necessarily an accumulation of certain kinds of things, above all, silver. We keep out all that an ordinary family would be likely to use, and the rest is stored in this safe cupboard, in case of fire or robbery. Very stupid of me not to have told my careful little housekeeper of this before. To tell the truth, I forget all about this hoard most of the time, and might not have thought of it now, if Elizabeth had not come to me with an important face and asked me if I did not think Miss Margaret ought to have the opportunity of putting out The Silver if she wished to do so, being as the house was to be full of company. That meant that Elizabeth herself wanted to display to the astonished eyes of Hugh and the Merryweather boys the resources of the house that she and Frances rule (on the whole, wisely), through you and me, their deputies and servants. I see no reason why the good souls should not be gratified do you?"
"On the contrary, I see every reason why they, and I too, should be gratified. Uncle John, I am glad I did not know about it before. It is the most delightful thing about Fernley, that one never seems to come to the end of it. I thought I knew everything by this time, and here is another enchanting mystery; for say what you will, Uncle John, an iron cupboard full of old silver, that nobody knows about,—or hardly anybody,—is a mystery. Now I am sure there are others, too; I shall never feel again that I know all about the house. Some day, when I am old and gray, I shall come upon another secret staircase, or a trap-door, or a hidden jewel-casket, or a lost will."
"Why, as to jewel-caskets," said Mr. Montfort, smiling, "there is perhaps something that might be said; but as you say, it would never do to find out everything at once, May Margaret. Run away now, and examine your tea-kettles; there are about forty, if I remember rightly."
"Uncle John! is there really a jewel-casket? What do you mean? There cannot be any more than those Aunt Faith had, surely."
"Can't there?" said Mr. Montfort, with a provoking smile. "Doubtless you know best, my dear." And not another word would he say on the subject; but he told Margaret where to find the iron cupboard, and she ran off in such a flutter that Peggy would hardly have known her model and mentor. Old silver was one of Margaret's weak points; indeed, she had a strong feeling about heirlooms of every kind, and treasured carefully every scrap of paper even that had any association with past times.