“If I were I did not know it, and went in my sleep,” was the reply of No. 2, for which Sherry blessed her, as it made her answer easy. She was very white, with a look of defiance in her dark eyes, and another,—a strange, far-off look such as they always had after one of her somnambulistic fits. Mrs. Groves noticed it, and hesitated a little before she said, “Fanny, were you there?” The _Fanny_ was a great concession,—made Mrs. Groves hardly knew why, except that with all her dislike of the girl she had a kind of respect for her. “If I were there I was asleep and did not know it,” Fanny answered, with a decided upward tilt of her chin, and a flash in her eyes as she continued fearlessly: “If you and Mr. Marsh think either of us would be guilty of trying to break open a chest which did not belong to us, you should dismiss us at once.” She looked like a young queen as she stood there with that strange shifting light in her eyes, and for a moment Mrs. Groves herself was quelled. “Mr. Marsh has said nothing to me about it,” she answered. “My information came from another source, and as matron here it is my duty to inquire into things and keep order if I can.” Sherry bowed her head, while Mrs. Groves departed, with Polly taking a few mimicking steps behind her. “Oh, Polly!” Nos. 2 and 3 began, when Mrs. Groves was gone. “How did you hear all the stuff you are telling us? You surely have listened.” “Not a bit of it,” Polly answered. “I was in my room near the attic stairs, and heard the squeals as they took out the things, and saw them bring ’em down to Miss Marsh’s room, and Mr. Reeves had put on a white bonnet with pink strings and a pair of stays, which looked like a saddle, and I heard ’em say the things were nearly a hundred years old, and belonged to that lady buried across the road. If I’se her, I’d appear to ’em, making fun of my clothes. They are to have a fancy dance and wear her things as far as they go. But, for the land’s sake, what’s the matter?” and she turned to Sherry, whose face was white as the lunch cloth and who was clutching a chair for support. “Nothing much,” Sherry answered. “I did not sleep well and have a nervous headache. Go on and tell us of the fancy dance. When is it to be?”