"You dear little meddlers!" she exclaimed. "This is all so astonishing to me; but I feel sure, nevertheless, that you have done nothing but good! And now will you--will you show me what you spoke of?" Cynthia rose, handed her a lighted candle, and led her to the opening of the little stairway in the library. "It's up these stairs, in the room above--on the desk," she said. "You will find it all lit up there. And I think that--you would rather go--alone!" Mrs. Collingwood took the candle, and Cynthia helped her into the opening at the foot of the stairs. Then she went back to Joyce. When they were alone, the two girls stood staring at one another and Cynthia's cheeks grew fiery red. "I don't know what--what you must think of me, Joyce!" she stammered. "I ought never to have done this, I suppose, without telling you." "Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Joyce. "Why, I was so afraid you'd think me silly and--and meddling, and you mightn't approve of it. I was unhappy,--I--somehow felt as though I'd committed a crime, and the only way to right it was this!" "How long ago did you send your letter?" asked Joyce, presently. Cynthia considered. "I think I posted it a week ago Thursday." "And you knew all the time, last night, that this was going to happen to-day?" asked Joyce incredulously. "Well, I sort of expected it,--that is, I really didn't know whether she'd come or not. It made me dreadfully nervous, and that's the reason I was so cross to you, Joyce, I suppose. Will you forgive me, now that you know?" "Why, of course!" said Joyce. Then, suddenly, "But, oh!-- I _wish_ I'd known this all at the time!" "What for? What difference would it have made?" demanded Cynthia. But Joyce only replied: "Hush! Is that Mrs. Collingwood coming down?" CHAPTER XV THE STRANGER AT THE DOOR Mrs. Collingwood remained a long time up-stairs,--so long, indeed, that the girls began to be rather uneasy, fearing that she had fainted, or perhaps was ill, or overcome--they knew not what. "Do you think we ought to go up?" asked Cynthia, anxiously. "Perhaps she needs help." "No, I think she just wants to be by herself. It was fine of you, Cynthia, to send her up alone! I really don't believe I'd have thought of it." At length they heard her coming slowly down, and presently she reentered the drawing-room. They could see that she was much moved, and had evidently been crying. She did not speak to them at once, but went and stood by the mantel, looking up long and earnestly at the portrait of the twins. "My babies!" they heard her murmur unconsciously, aloud. At last, however, she came to them, and sat down once more between them on the sofa. They wondered nervously what she was going to say.