had no idea how to make the best of herself; her one great idea was to be neat at all costs. Her drab-coloured hair was brushed back smoothly, in a most trying fashion; and never by any chance would she have a button or hook missing from any of her clothing, nor a hole in her stocking—and this was a credit to her, because she worked as slowly with her needle as she did with everything else, though it must be owned that she was very fond of sewing. Very slow, very methodical, very neat—such was Caroline. "I believe she even dusts and wraps up in tissue paper each needle and pin and reel of cotton after she has finished with it," was Isobel's opinion after she had known her a week; and although this may sound like one of Isobel's exaggerated remarks, yet it was nearer the truth than she herself dreamt when she said it.
What acquaintance had Miss Crabingway had with these three girls, Pamela wondered. And what had made her choose them—and herself. They made an oddly assorted quartette.
As they were rising from the supper-table she asked them whether any of them knew Miss Crabingway well, and learnt to her surprise that none of them had more than the slightest acquaintance with her. Neither Isobel not Caroline could remember ever seeing Miss Crabingway, and Beryl said vaguely that she had seen her once—a long time ago. Beryl said she believed that her mother had been a friend of Miss Crabingway's, many years back. Isobel said her mater had met Miss Crabingway abroad—had happened to stay in the same hotel—about six years ago. An uncle of Caroline's, so she informed them, had once done some business transactions with Miss Crabingway, and had corresponded with her since, at intervals.
"Well, I can't make it out at all," thought Pamela to herself. "Why Miss Crabingway should have invited us—four girls—practically strangers to her—to come and stay at her house while she is away.... I can't see any reason for it.... Anyway, I suppose we shall know when she returns."
The supper having considerably revived Isobel, she said she would like to see over the house before she went to bed; and Caroline, having no objection ready against this suggestion (except that she was half asleep in her chair), found herself joining in this tour of inspection and stolidly taking stock of the house that was to be her home for the next six months.
In a whispered aside to Pamela Isobel pronounced the dining-room wall-paper 'hideous' and the drawing-room decorations 'perfectly awful'—both remarks being overhead by Ellen, who glared at the back of Isobel's head in silent indignation at this reflection on her mistress's taste. It was certainly not good manners on Isobel's part, but she was not over-sensitive about other people's feelings, and was rarely aware of the fact when her words or tone of voice had hurt or given offence.
On the first floor landing Pamela pointed out the locked door. The girls knew that they were forbidden to try to open it, or look through the keyhole, their instructions being the same as Pamela's.
"And to think that one little action—just kneeling down and putting your eye to the keyhole—would make you lose fifty pounds!" exclaimed Isobel. "It's not worth losing all that money just for curiosity, is it?"
"Rather not," said Pamela. "I vote that we all keep away from that door as if the paint on it were poisonous to touch."
"I'm sorry my room's next to it," Isobel went on, "but it doesn't really matter—though I like to keep as far away from temptation as I can … not that I want to look inside, but—you know the feeling—just because I know I mustn't–"
"I know the feeling," agreed Pamela. "But don't you think it would be wisest not to talk about it any more, or we shall all be dreaming about it to-night."
Ellen, who was leading the way up to the top floor where her own room and Martha's room were situated, pricked up her ears at this.
"Dreams go by contrary," she said to herself mechanically, and, apparently, without meaning. Besides being a mine of information on melancholy events, Ellen was a great believer in dreams, possessing as many as ten 'dream books,' which she consulted frequently on the meaning of her dreams. Ellen believed also in fortune-telling by tea-leaves, and lucky stars, and the like. And many a time she had made even Martha—who knew her little ways and generally laughed tolerantly at her—turn 'goose-flesh' at the terrible fate she would read out for Martha and herself from the tea-leaves left in their cups.
"Do you believe it's possible to dream what is inside that room—I mean dream truly—if you set your mind on it just before going to sleep?" Isobel asked of Pamela, as she glanced round the bath-room.
Caroline, who was examining everything in the bath-room closely and minutely, as was her habit, raised her head as if to speak, but Pamela, who had her back turned to her and did not see her mouth open, replied:
"I don't know. I'm afraid I'm not an expert on dreams—I hardly ever dream myself."
"Wouldn't it be fun," suggested Isobel, as they all made their way downstairs again, "if each of us tried hard to dream what was inside the room—and then tell each other what dreams we had had, in the morning—and when Miss Crabingway comes back we will see if any of us are right."
"Oh, I don't know," said Pamela. "Somehow I don't think we'd better even try to dream what is inside the room. Perhaps it isn't quite fair to—to—I don't know how to put it— Anyway, I think it would be better if we left the subject entirely alone, don't you?"
Again Caroline opened her mouth and was about to say something, when Isobel burst in with,
"Oh, but Miss Crabingway didn't say we were not to dream about it, did she? … That would be impossible to forbid.... But still, perhaps it's best not to meddle with the subject. It's not worth losing fifty pounds over, anyway."
Beryl, although she had accompanied the others over the house, had not spoken a word since they left the dining-room, but she had listened to all that was going on with much interest. Here was another girl, Isobel, who seemed quite at home among strangers in a strange house, thought Beryl; but she did not envy Isobel; she was vaguely afraid of her. Caroline appeared more at her ease than Beryl had expected her to be; though Caroline seemed to others slow and awkward, she was not aware of this herself, and so was not made uneasy on that score. Caroline did not know her own failings, while Beryl was keenly alive to herown—and suffered accordingly.
As the four girls bid each other good-night a few minutes later, Caroline found the opportunity she had been waiting for, and mentioned something that had been fidgeting her since her arrival.
"Oh—er—do you know if my room has been well aired?" she asked slowly, reminding Pamela irresistibly of an owl as she gazed solemnly through her spectacles. "I'm rather subject to chills—and mother told me to be sure and see that my bedroom had been well aired."
Fortunately Martha was able to assure her on this point, and Caroline went upstairs apparently content. But before she went to sleep she thoroughly fingered the sheets and pillow-cases to satisfy herself that Martha was a strictly truthful person.
When, at length, every one had retired and all was quiet, a little breeze arose in the garden and scurried round the house, whispering excitedly among the ivy leaves. But though the breeze ruffled and agitated the cloak of ivy, it had no power to stir the old house beneath, which stood, grim and unmoved, brooding in silence over the strangers within its walls.
CHAPTER V
MAKING PLANS
In the morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Pamela held an informal 'council meeting' in the drawing-room.
"I thought we'd better just talk over some sort of plan for organizing things, so that we shall all be as comfortable as possible," she said, leaning her elbow on the small round table before her and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.
