“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.”