Maud stopped crying, and raised herself on one elbow.
“If you’ll promise never to tell Grandma,” she said, “I’ll tell you something. It’s my secret; I’ve had it for ever so many days.”
“A secret! What kind of a secret?” Molly was beginning to be interested.
“It’s a very lovely secret,” said Maud, proudly. “You big ones are always having secrets, so I got one, too. I won’t tell it, though, unless you promise not to tell Grandma.”
“Of course I’ll promise. You know I never tell Grandma things, or Aunt Kate either.”
“I don’t know that we ought to tell Dulcie and Daisy,” said Maud, doubtfully; “they might think Grandma ought to know. That’s why I didn’t talk about it. It was so exciting. I peeked in, but I was scared to go any farther.”
“Peeked in?” repeated Molly; “where did you peek in?”
“Next door. Through the door in the trunk-room, you know.”
“Do you mean the door Grandpa had cut between the houses when Uncle George lived next door? I thought it was locked up after Uncle George died, and the boarding-house people came there.”
“It isn’t locked up,” said Maud, triumphantly. “I found out, and that’s my secret.”