“This is entirely different from Barry Manor,” said Doris. “Fancy our sorority moving in here for a week-end, that surely would liven things up a bit, but would no doubt upset the lives of these two ladies who live so secluded and almost a hermits’ existence.”
“I don’t see how the Misses Gates can stand to live here all the time,” Kitty said as they turned toward the side door where Wags was to be tied for the night. “I’d be a nervous wreck. I wish they would hurry up and tell you why they invited you here.”
“So do I,” Doris returned earnestly. “I am sure they haven’t told us all of their story. To speak of the past revives old memories and they keep putting it off. Ronald Trent may come back any day now and I want to learn just how matters stand before he gets here.”
CHAPTER XIII
An Important Request
Doris and Kitty spent an unpleasant night in the right wing, for, as they had anticipated, the weird noises began shortly after they had retired. Once, hearing footsteps near their door, they clutched each other in an agony of fear, but the sound soon died away. They were on the verge of falling asleep when a strange noise from a distant part of the wing roused them into wakefulness.
“This is terrible!” Kitty whispered. “What can be going on in this dreadful house?”
“Perhaps it’s only Cora or Henry astir,” Doris suggested, but the explanation did not satisfy her, and Kitty refused to be comforted by it.
For long hours the girls lay awake, but once asleep nothing disturbed them and they awoke in the morning feeling refreshed in spite of the harrowing night.
“It’s always something of a surprise each morning when I wake up and find I’m still alive,” Kitty laughed.
At breakfast Iris chanced to remark that an old croquet set had been stored in the attic and Doris and Kitty asked if they might use it.
“Certainly,” Iris assured them. “I’ll get it out of the attic for you.”
“Oh, let us get it ourselves,” Doris begged. “I just love to poke around in attics. It’s on the third floor above our wing, isn’t it?”
Azalea and Iris exchanged quick, startled glances.
“Oh, no,” Iris returned hastily. “The attic is in the left wing.”
“But I thought there was a floor above our bedroom,” Doris said, somewhat puzzled. “We’ve been hearing such queer noises at night.”
“Mice undoubtedly,” Azalea explained and arose from the table. “If you want to see the attic, come with me.”
They went to the kitchen for a lantern and then mounted the stairs to the third floor above the left wing. Azalea unlocked the door and told them to look about as much as they liked.
After Azalea had gone back down stairs, Doris whispered to her chum:
“Didn’t you think the twins acted funny when I asked about the third floor on our wing?”
“Yes, I did, Doris. They switched the subject, too.”
The attic was something of a disappointment, for it was very clean and tidy. A number of boxes lined the walls, but each was plainly labeled as to its contents. Flashing the lantern about, the girls saw that they contained blankets, woolens, old clothing, and numerous other articles.
“Nothing very exciting here,” Kitty said. “It isn’t any fun poking into boxes when they’re all labeled. I wish the Misses Gates weren’t such good housekeepers.”
Doris had found the croquet set and, with Kitty’s help, dragged it out into the light.
“We may as well take it down into the yard and have a game,” she suggested.
“I suppose so,” Kitty agreed. “I’d hoped we might stumble upon something interesting here, but I guess there’s no chance of it. You know, Doris, I’ve read about folks finding false bottom trunks and things like that in their attics.”
“I guess it happens only in stories. Anyway, I don’t see any trunk here. If there’s an attic above the right wing, I’ll bet it’s more interesting than this one.”
Locking the attic door, the girls took the croquet set down to the front lawn and set up the arches. They played three games, Doris going down in ignoble defeat.
“Croquet isn’t my game,” she laughed. “I’d rather wield a tennis racquet than a mallet.”
Soon tiring of the sport they amused themselves by throwing a rubber ball to Wags who would pick it up in his mouth and return it to them.
Presently Iris and Azalea brought their sewing and came out to sit in the swing. They watched the girls for a time and then Iris called to them.
“Perhaps you would like to hear the rest of the story we were telling you the other day?” she asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Doris declared.
“I’m afraid we’re only boring you,” Azalea murmured. “We have no desire to inflict our troubles upon you.”
“Oh, but you aren’t,” Doris assured her. “We’re both very much interested.”
Leaving Wags to his own devices, the girls sat down in the swing beside the Misses Gates.
“You go on with the story,” Azalea murmured.
Iris did not begin at once but sat for some minutes gazing away. At last, with a sigh, she forced herself to take up the broken threads.
“For thirty-two years after John Trent left, we heard no word from him,” she said sadly. “Often we wondered what might have become of him. At first we thought perhaps he would write to one of us—at least to tell us that he was sorry for everything that had happened.”
“And he didn’t?” Doris asked.
“No, to this day our only message has been through his son. You may imagine our joy when Ronald came to see us here at the mansion. He resembles his mother more than his father, it seems, so we did not recognize him.”
Kitty and Doris exchanged odd glances but Iris did not notice.
“Ronald told us that his father was dead,” she continued in a low voice. “His wife had died before him, so Ronald was his heir. Before John passed away, he begged Ronald to return to Rumson and find the lovely Misses Gates. Those were his very words! ‘Do all in your power to make them happy,’ he said.”
Here Iris paused to wipe her eyes.
“It was very dear of him to think of us at the last,” Azalea said softly, “and very kind of his son to come this far with the message. He remembered us in a material way, too.”
“Yes,” Iris went on bravely. “It seems, that after John left Rumson he accumulated a large fortune. He willed three-quarters of the estate to his son—which was as it should be—and the remaining quarter to Azalea and myself, to be divided equally.”
“How considerate,” Doris murmured.
“Yes,” Iris agreed, “and just at this time the money will come in handy. You see, since Father died the estate has dwindled. We have this property, of course, but very little ready money.”
“Unfortunately, we shall not be able to get our inheritance for some time,” Azalea explained. “There are certain legal complications which I do not entirely understand. There seems to have been some tangle about identifying poor John’s body at the time of his death and the estate is tied up.”
“Of course we shall get the money in the end,” Iris declared, “but right now there are a number of attorney’s fees to be met. Ronald is entirely without funds, so it was natural that he should come to us.”
“You