What little geese we were! A lot we _did_ toward unraveling any of that tangle! Even father and Major Goodrich were way off the track. It took Aunt Minerva (the darling!) to walk right in and clear the whole thing up! Here's "Hurrah!" then, for Aunt Minerva! She certainly had the laugh on _us_! However, I sometimes console myself with the thought that it was we (you and I) who first took an interest in that shuttered old house in the garden. If we hadn't--who knows?--we would probably never have met Cecily, and things would be just the same as ever there, and Miss Alixe wouldn't have-- But what's the use of going into all that! The "girl next door" is our own dearest friend now, and everything is all right. I just looked out of the window and saw a light in Cecily's room. She's also writing to you to-night. We promised each other we both would. I'm growing sleepy now, so good-night and heaps of love. MARCIA. February 28, 1913. P. S. Did I tell you this before, I wonder? Cecily has both the bracelets now. Aunt Minerva, of course insisted that she should. She has put them safely away and will never part with them again. But we take them out and look at them sometimes and think of all the strange and awful adventures they've been through and the curious chance that brought them together again. Always, after we've looked at them, Cecily asks me to play the "Träumerei." And while I play, she sits very quietly and says nothing, and her eyes have a far-away look. But I know what she is thinking about! M. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl Next Door, by Augusta Huiell Seaman