May basket in hand, Marjorie tiptoed toward Mark’s door and saw that the paper had been taken off it. She hung the May basket on the knob and knocked. There was no answer. “May I come and bring you a May Day gift?” she softly suggested to the closed door.
But right here, who should appear but Mother! “I’ll take the basket in for you, dear,” she smiled. Marjorie was quite aware of the wicked twinkle in her eye. “Dotty wants you to help her downstairs,” she said.
So downstairs went Marjorie. She stopped half way as Mother opened the mysterious door and passed in with the May basket. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. Now, wasn’t that just dreadful! Marjorie’s curiosity was much bigger than ever but she went down to help darling little sister, Dotty, cut paper dolls out of the fashion sheet.
But while she cut for Dotty, she kept wondering and wondering and wondering. She decided that she’d write a note upon some paper and slip it under the door and say on the paper:
Who are you, mysterious stranger? Please answer? Are you Auntie? If you are Auntie, let me know, please. I want to see you. If you are Mother’s friend, Miss Phelps, please tell me? Mother says you want to be quiet, so I can’t come in, but I want to know who you are—please, please put an answer under your door for me.
Marjorie.
That was what she did do as soon as the last doll had been cut out. At the time, Mother was busy in the kitchen, getting tea. Dotty was still playing with the dolls. Marjorie slipped upstairs and tucked the paper beneath the crack. As she came to the end of the paper, she gave it a wiggle to attract attention. She hadn’t dared to speak again as Mother said the mysterious person must not be troubled.
As the paper disappeared under the door Mother appeared! She came bringing a napkin and tray with something hot upon it. She was going to take this into Mark’s room.
“Marjorie,” she reproved. “Are you still so curious? Well, run away now.”
Marjorie waited in the hall and heard Mother speaking—but nothing else! She was almost ashamed to pursue the mystery so openly but when Mother at last came out bringing the tray and the empty dishes, she laughingly handed Marjorie an answer to the letter. It said in strange scrawls that betrayed nothing of who had written them:
Please, I feel sick. You’ll see me sometime when I am better. I just want to sleep now.
The Mysterious Mystery.