"I do not approve of eating just before you go to bed," said her aunt. "Eat now or not at all."
Elizabeth was quite desperate. She must take the chance of finding something in the pantry. When dinner was over and her aunts had returned to the library she slipped into the pantry. Unfortunately nothing had been left there. All that she could find for Valentine were a few more crackers and some bread. However, it would keep him from starving.
Her brother received them with small thanks, but they were better than nothing. Then he wanted Elizabeth to stay with him, but this she would not do.
"I must go down stairs again to say good-night, and then I must go to bed," she said, firmly.
"Come here instead, and I will tell you the whole story," suggested Valentine, who had no desire for a lonely evening.
"No, this is the last time I am coming to-night. I—I think, Val, I will not hear your story at all. If I have deceived Aunt Caroline I have deceived her, but I am not going to be paid for it. I have been thinking it over. You are not to tell me. Good-night!"
It was half an hour later, and Valentine had come to the conclusion that he might as well go to bed himself, when there was a faint tap at the door. The room was lighted by but one candle—they had thought that a gas-light might show beneath the door, and attract attention—and the place was so gloomy and mysterious that when the knock came Valentine was startled in spite of himself.
"It is ghosts, maybe," he muttered. "This room is so queer and uncanny."
The tap was repeated, and he moved cautiously to the door. There stood Elizabeth, her dark eyes shining in the candle-light, and a deep color burning in her cheeks. For a moment she said nothing. Valentine was the first to speak.
"Good for you! So you have come to hear the story. Come in," he whispered.