The Girl Next Door

by Augusta Huiell Seaman

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE UNEXPECTED

  The major's letter did nothing, however, to lighten the gloom. On thecontrary, it only increased it tenfold. The main substance of it was inthis paragraph:

  It's singular how much you can dig out about a subject, once you put your mind to it. I thought at first that I had told you all that was known about Jack Carringford and his affairs--all that could be discovered. But the deeper I go into it, the more I seem to unearth. Yesterday another friend to whom I had written, on the off-chance of getting a little information (but from whom I really didn't expect much) sent me this bit of news. It seems he heard it said that after Carringford went back to England he married again, and it is thought that he did not live very long after,--died suddenly of pneumonia, or something like it, in an obscure town in the north of England. Perhaps this will help you some in your amateur detective work. If I glean any more information, I'll let you know at once. I rather enjoy this delving into the past.

  "Oh, horrors!" exclaimed Marcia. "Could anything be plainer than this isgetting to be? Of course, that explains it all! Cecily didn't rememberher father, and her 'mother' was really her stepmother. I wonder if sheknows it. She never mentioned it, but then she seldom speaks of hermother, anyway. Though I always thought, from the way she acted, thatshe was very fond of her."

  "It certainly grows more convincing with every added piece of news wehear," mused the captain. "I wish we _could_ find some loophole forthinking that this tangle doesn't concern Cecily. But how on earth shecan have any Chinese ancestry, beats me. She doesn't show a trace of it.One would certainly think she'd have almond eyes and coarse, straighthair, or a dark complexion, or _something_! It's the one thing thatgives me the slightest hope that she can't be Carringford's daughter."

  "But what shall we do now?" questioned Janet, bringing them backabruptly to the affairs of the moment.

  "The first thing to do," declared Captain Brett, "is to question Cecilyabout her father and mother, and see what _she_ knows. She may recallsomething that will give us another clue. If this proves to be the righttrail, we've got to follow it up, get into communication with theCarringfords in England, and see if they will do anything about her.They ought to be willing to provide for his daughter. But we'll have tobe very sure of our facts, or they'll pay no attention, I suppose.Somehow or other we'll have to trace out Carringford's career in Englandafter he returned. I wish I knew the name he assumed, but no one seemsto be able to tell us that."

  "But even _still_, we haven't the slightest clue to the reason whyCecily was sent to Miss Benedict," mused Marcia.

  "Why, yes, we have something new now," interrupted Janet. "Hasn't itoccurred to you that Mr. Carringford's second wife might have been someconnection of the Benedicts, or known them, or something?"

  "Sure enough! sure enough!" cried the captain, thumping his knee. "Thisputs the thing in an entirely new light. We must find out a little moreabout that second wife. You get what you can from Cecily, but do becareful how you question her. The child is sensitive, and was apparentlyvery fond of the lady she called her mother. Try not to probe toodeeply. And remember to explain to her that you are not asking just outof idle curiosity, which she'd be perfectly right in resenting."

  It was with no very pleasant anticipations that Marcia and Janet lookedforward to their interview with Cecily next afternoon. How to approachthe subject without giving her a clue to the real state of affairs, theywere puzzled to know. Plan after plan they formed, only to reject afterthinking them over. "Suppose Cecily should ask this," or "What if Cecilyshould inquire why we say that?" spoiled every outline of theconversation that they could imagine. At last Janet declared:

  "It's perfectly useless to think now what we'll say, or what she'llanswer. Let's just wait till the time comes and say what seems best atthe moment. The whole conversation may be entirely different fromanything we plan."

  "I guess you're right," sighed Marcia. "I'm tired out thinking about it,anyhow." And so they put it all aside till Cecily's arrival.

  When she came, that afternoon, she found two very serious and thoughtfulfriends awaiting her. One thing at least, they had determined,--not toput off the dreaded interview till later in the day, but have it over atonce and get it off their minds. So when they were all comfortablyseated in Marcia's cozy room, Janet began:

  "Cecily, would you mind very much if we asked you a few questions? Youremember, the other day, we said that something had come up concerningyou, we thought, and we would tell you about it later. Well, we aren'tquite ready to tell you _all_ about it yet, but it would help a greatdeal if you'd answer a few questions about yourself. Will you?" And shefelt an immense sensation of relief, after these words were spoken, athaving at least taken the first plunge.

  "Why, of course!" assented Cecily, wonderingly. "That is, if I possiblycan."

  "And you'll remember that we aren't asking just out of curiosity, butbecause it may help to untangle your affairs?" interrupted Marcia,anxiously. Cecily only smiled and squeezed her hand, as if an answer tothat were unnecessary.

  "Well, dear," said Janet, in a hesitating voice, "could you tell uswhether you know this: was your father ever married twice?"

  Cecily started and flushed a little. "Oh, I--I don't know anything aboutsuch a thing!" she murmured. "I--I don't think so. You see, he diedbefore I remember anything about him, and my mother never spoke of himto me very much."

  "Then she never told you anything about that?" went on Janet.

  "No," replied Cecily, very positively.

  "Now, I have one more question to ask that I'm afraid may startle you,but please don't attach too much importance to it. Was the lady youcalled mother your real mother or your stepmother?"

  This time Cecily fairly jumped. "Oh, no, no!" she cried. "I'm sure, I'mvery sure she was my own mother. She would certainly have told me if shehad not been. I would have known it. Why do you ask?"

  "That, you know, is what we can't just explain yet," answered Janet,evidently distressed. "Were you very, very fond of her, Cecily?"

  "Indeed, yes!" replied the puzzled girl. "How could I help but be? Shewas so lovely and sweet and good to me, and seemed to live only for mycomfort and happiness. I never dreamed of such a thing as her not beingmy own mother." There were real tears in Cecily's eyes as she made thisdeclaration. Marcia and Janet experienced as unpleasant a sensation asif they had been compelled to torture a helpless kitten. And yet thetask must be gone through with and there were further queries to make.

  "Do forgive us for all this, Cecily," begged Marcia. "It hurts ushorribly to make you feel badly. We wouldn't do it for the world ifthere weren't a good reason. But can you tell us this? Was thereanything your mother ever said or did that would in any way suggest thatshe might not be--your own mother? Think hard, Cecily dear."

  The girl sat a long while, chin in hand, staring out of the window atthe tightly shuttered expanse of "Benedict's Folly" opposite. No onespoke, and the others made a vain pretense of working hard at theirembroidery. But the hands of both shook so that the stitches were very,very crooked indeed. At last Cecily turned to them and spoke in a verysubdued voice:

  "These things are making me very unhappy, but I know you only mean themfor my good. My mother did say one or two things that I thought nothingof at the time, but now, since your questions, seem as if they may haveanother meaning. One was this. We were looking in the mirror togetherone time, and I said how queer it was that I didn't look a bit likeher. I was so fair and light-haired, and had rosy cheeks, and she wasdark and her eyes were brown and her hair almost black. She smiled andsaid:

  "'No, it isn't very strange when you think--' and then stopped verysuddenly and flushed quite red. And I asked her what she meant, but sheonly replied: 'Oh, nothing, nothing, dear! Children often look verydifferent from their parents, not at all like them.' And she wouldn'tsay any more. I thought it strange for a while, but soon forgot allabout it. I
can't imagine now what she meant, unless it was--that. Theonly other thing I remember is this. I asked her one time whether, whenI was a tiny little baby, I wore pink or blue bows on my dresses. Shewas very busy about something at the time and she just said, sort ofabsent-mindedly, 'I don't know I'm sure.' And then she added, in a greathurry, 'Oh, I don't remember! Pink, I guess.' I thought it strange thatshe should forget how she dressed me, for she always had a very goodmemory. But I forgot that, too, very soon. That is all."

  Marcia and Janet glanced uneasily at each other. The information seemedto confirm their worst apprehensions. But Janet went on:

  "Just one more question, dear, and we'll stop this horrid inquisition.Can you tell us what was your mother's maiden name, the name of herpeople?"

  "Yes," said Cecily. "It was Treadwell. But she hadn't any peopleleft--they were all dead, and she was the last one of her family. But,oh! can't you tell me, girls, why you have had to ask all thesequestions? I have waited so patiently, and I have worried so about itall. And what you have said to-day has made me feel worse than ever."

  "Dear heart, we don't want to tell you quite yet," soothed Marcia. "Itwouldn't do you any good to know about it till we're positive beyond adoubt. It isn't anything so very terrible, anyhow. Nothing to worryabout at all. But just something we wish might be a little different.And nothing could possibly make the least difference in the way we carefor you, anyway, so just don't worry another bit. Now I'm going to playfor you." And she drew her violin from its case.

  Marcia gave them quite a concert that afternoon, rendering selectionafter selection to please them, glad indeed of the diversion and relieffrom the unpleasantness of their accomplished task. But she did not playthe "Traeumerei," for some reason not very well defined even to herself,but vaguely connected with recent disclosures. At last Cecily herselfasked for it, and then, of course, Marcia could not refrain fromobliging her. When it was over, Cecily took her departure, and thegirls, left alone, plunged at once into the discussion of the mostrecent developments of the mystery.

  That evening Captain Brett and the two girls held a council of war.

  "There's no denying," he said, "we've discovered the most importantthing yet in learning that name--Treadwell. We've something to workfrom now. With that to start from, I can set on foot some inquiries overin England that may establish her identity. And you must ask MissBenedict (though I hate to be constantly troubling her in this way) ifshe has any recollection of some one by that name who could possiblyhave any claim on her. Do this as soon as possible. We're certain to getat the root of the matter very soon now."

  "Do you think," asked Marcia, "that those remarks of her mother's thatCecily repeated look as if we were right in believing it to be herstepmother?"

  "It certainly seems so to me," he acknowledged. "Of course, we mustremember this. When you have a suspicion that certain things are so,every little circumstance and every lightest remark seem to confirm youin that belief. Often these things have absolutely no bearing on itwhatever, but you _think_ they have, simply because you fear that theyhave or want them to have. So we mustn't be misled by chance remarks. Iwill admit, however, that these particular ones seem singularly to bearus out in our conjectures."

  "Well, do let's get some of these things settled to-morrow," sighedMarcia. "I'm losing so much sleep over it that I'm beginning to feellike an owl. I just worry and worry all night long it seems to me. Let'sask Miss Benedict about the name of Treadwell when we go there, if wecan possibly manage to see her."

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you about that," interrupted the captain. "ButI'm afraid I'll have to ask you to remain at home to-morrow. I'm duedowntown on some errands that will take me to a number of places. And atthe same time, I'm expecting an important business message over thetelephone. I shall have to ask you to be here without fail to take themessage for me. I can't trust Eliza to get it right. So you'll have toput off your visit for another day. But don't be too much disappointed,for while I'm away I shall be making inquiries as to how we must goabout tracing the name of Treadwell in England. That will be somethingaccomplished." And with this consolation the girls had to be content.

  "Now," said Janet, next morning, when the captain had gone and they hadresigned themselves to a long day of waiting, "I have a plan to propose.Let's not talk or even _think_ a thing about all this business to-day.If we do, we'll only make ourselves more miserable than we are. I founda perfectly fascinating new book in the library yesterday. Let's sit andread it, turn about, and see if we can't both finish those centerpieceswe've been working on so long. We'll have to work like everything to doit. That ought to keep our minds off of our troubles. And we'lltelephone for some French pastry for dessert at luncheon, and some candyfor this afternoon."

  The plan seemed to offer pleasant possibilities, and they both settledthemselves comfortably in the cool living-room to pass the morning. Thebook was well begun and the embroidery advancing rapidly, when Elizacame in with a letter just left in the box, and deposited it on thelibrary table.

  "It's for the captain," she announced, as she turned away. Marcia jumpedup and scrutinized the writing.

  "Oh, Janet!" she exclaimed at once; "it's from the major!"

  "It is?" cried her friend, apprehensively. "Then it's some more horridnews he's unearthed. I'm certain of it! Not a letter comes from him butit's something to worry us more. I just hate the sight of them!"

  "Yes; and what's more," moaned Marcia, "we can't even know what's inthis one till Father comes home this evening. Why, I feel as if I'd gocrazy, having to wait all that time!"

  "Well, you'll have to wait," commented Janet, philosophically, "so youmight as well do it as peacefully as you can. Come, let's go on with ourbook."

  It was all very well to speak philosophically about the matter, however,but to _act_ so was a different affair. Try as they might, they couldnot, from that moment, concentrate their minds on the pleasant programthey had mapped out for themselves. A dozen times during the morningMarcia would stop reading and glance speculatively at the unopenedletter. A dozen times Janet left her fancy-work and strolled over toinspect the superscription anew. The French pastry at luncheon failed tosoothe them, and the candy in the afternoon remained uneaten.

  At three o'clock they took to staring out of the window to watch for thecaptain's return. And as they watched they detailed to each other thevarious things they surmised might be in the major's letter. Marciaasserted that he had probably discovered the second wife's name to beTreadwell, thus confirming their worst fears. And Janet declared that hehad no doubt ascertained just why Cecily had been sent to the Benedicthome. Perhaps it was even to prevent her being sent back to China to hermandarin grandfather. Nothing they could imagine was too dreadful to fitinto the scheme of things. By half past five they were the mostmiserable pair of girls in the big city. And at that moment, they heardthe captain's key in the hall door.

  "Quick! quick! quick!" they breathlessly panted at him, explainingnothing, but only waving the major's letter in his face. Asking noquestions, he took it, slit it open, and glanced hurriedly through thecontents. Then he gave a long, low whistle.

  "Oh, tell us!" groaned Marcia. "What more that's quite horrible has hefound out?"

  For answer the captain sat down and laughed till the tears stood in hiseyes. At last he managed to gasp: "Well, of all the dances I've everbeen led, this is the worst and most foolish! But it's just like themajor. He always was the most impulsive chap. You'll be delighted toknow that he's made one more discovery--and that is that he has been'barking up the wrong tree,' as they say. Here's what he writes:

  "It occurred to me yesterday, in connection with this affair, to look up some of the old diaries I used to keep in the China days. They have been stored away in the attic in a chest for years, but I got them out and have been running over them, hoping to come across an entry that might have some bearing on the matter in question. And, quite to my chagrin, I did discover this. I will quote it, just
as it stands: _Today Carringford was married according to native customs. None of us invited._

  "But here's the point of departure, so to speak. This entry was made on March 10, 1890, and you see it doesn't agree at all with the inscription on your bracelet, which is, I believe, September 25, 1889. So, of course, the only inference that can be drawn is that they were two separate and distinct affairs that have absolutely no connection. So sorry! Anything else I can do for you, I'll be delighted, etc., etc."

  The captain did not finish the remainder of the letter, for theexcellent reason that no one of his audience was paying the leastattention to it.

  When he looked up, at this point, Marcia was prone on the couchalternately sobbing and laughing and sobbing again, and Janet wasstaring out of the window, blinking hard to restrain the tears of reliefthat would insist on rolling down her cheeks.

  And in the midst of this curious state of affairs, who should open thedoor and walk in but--Aunt Minerva! Suitcase in hand, she stared at thethree in amazement for a second till, with a glad cry of recognition,they all rushed upon her and literally snowed her under with embraces.

  "I couldn't let you know I was coming, because I didn't know myself tillthis morning," she explained. "Drusilla's sister Ellen came inunexpectedly from the West, and of course that relieved me. I justpacked up in half an hour, and here I am. Whatever is the matter withyou all? When I came in you looked as if you'd just attended the funeralof your last friend. I hope Eliza hasn't given you all indigestion!"

  "We'll tell you after dinner, Minerva," laughed the captain. "It's along and complicated tale. My, but we're glad to see you again!"

  That evening they made her sit down and listen while they rehearsed thestory. It had to begin with the description of their day on shipboard,the very day that she had gone away, and ended with the major's finalletter.

  She listened to it all very quietly and without any comments whatever,except for an indignant and scornful sniff once in a while.

  "Well," demanded Marcia, when it was over and they were waiting for herto speak, "what do you think of it?"

  "I think," she remarked cryptically, "that you needed Minerva Brett hereto manage this affair for you. _She_ would have given you a littlebetter advice than to go off on a wild goose chase down to Pennsylvaniaon the wrong trail!"

  They stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.

  "You might explain yourself, Minerva," mildly suggested the captain.

  "I _might_, but I'm not going to!" she replied firmly. "At least, notjust at present." And with a tantalizing smile, she sweetly bade themall good night and departed to her room.

  "Janet," said Marcia, that night, as she curled her arms up over herhead on the pillow, "isn't it heavenly to go to sleep with that horridweight lifted from your mind? We seem to be just as far as ever fromsolving the riddle about Cecily, but at least, the darling isn't thegranddaughter of a mandarin! But, do you know, I can't help but wonderwhere that poor little granddaughter is, and what became of her. Shesort of seems like a real person to me now."

  "I don't wonder about her, and what's more, I don't care," sighed Janet."As long as it wasn't Cecily. What's puzzling me is how your auntexpects to solve the riddle? What can _she_ know about it?"

  "Well, I don't bother about _that_," returned Marcia, "because I'm gladto let somebody else have a hand in working at it now. I'm content toleave it to Aunt Minerva!"