"What will he say when he gets my letter?" asked the child.
"I don't know, I am sure. You ought never to have written that letter. I don't know what he will say."
"Aunt Caroline, would you mind if—if I went up to my room now?"
"Not yet. I have not finished. You deserve a severe punishment for prying into that room, Elizabeth. I have not yet decided what it shall be. Your curiosity must be controlled. What difference need it make to you if forty rooms in the house are locked?"
"I don't know."
"I should think not. That room is connected with the tragedy of my life. I doubt if you ever know about it. Perhaps when you are a woman you may be told of it, but that cannot be decided now. And I ask you never to mention the subject to me again."
"No, Aunt Caroline, I won't."
"You may go now."
"Yes, Aunt Caroline."
Elizabeth walked across the large room to the door. Then she paused a moment, and turning abruptly, she flew back to her aunt's side.