"I can hardly keep silent," she went on. "When I think of Carrie alone in that huge house in Boston, with her big income and her still bigger heart and only her charities to fill it and to occupy her time, and then think of Estelle, so proudly trying to support herself and Edith in a land where self-support for women is not easy,--why, Win, it seems as though I must tell her on the spot.

And yet, if I do, I am quite sure Estelle will just shut herself up in the armor of her pride and refuse to make herself known.

Taking both the testimony of the chains and the very p.r.o.nounced family resemblance, there can be no reasonable doubt of the ident.i.ty."

"I think Estelle would refuse," said Win slowly. "She's foolishly proud. She thinks, Mother, that you pay more than the house is worth and so she does her level best to make it up to us in other ways."

"I believe I will write to Carrie," mused Mrs. Thayne. "She'd be interested and anxious to see the girls. I'm sure she doesn't realize that she has any cousins in England."

"Mother," said Win with deliberation, "why don't you ask Mrs.

Aldrich to come over and visit us for a little? You'd like to have her and so would we. Probably she has nothing especial to keep her at home and might be glad to be let out of a month or two of winter."

"That's a bright idea, Win!" exclaimed his mother. "Only I suppose she has several pet charities that she will feel she can't leave at short notice."

"In that case," replied Win, "probably you'd better write her about the girls, only do tell her to come and see for herself. It strikes me that nothing but knowing each other would ever really bring them together."

"Win, you are so like your father," said Mrs. Thayne affectionately. "Your minds work alike. I find I'm growing to depend more and more upon your judgment."

In the dusk Mrs. Thayne could not see the flush that spread over her son's thin face. To be likened in any way to Captain Thayne was praise indeed for Win.

"I only wish I could take more off your shoulders, Mother," he said briefly, "instead of being a great lazy lump that the whole family has to take thought for."

"Here's Annette with letters," said Mrs. Thayne. "Why, I did not expect mail until tomorrow."

Some moments pa.s.sed until Win was aroused from his own correspondence by a sudden surprised exclamation from his mother.

"Never say you don't believe in special providences. This seems almost incredible, but here is a note from Mrs. Aldrich, written from London! She's come over to attend some charity congress and wants me to run up for a few days."

"Then it is meant that you should, Mother," said Win, smiling.

"That coincidence hasn't happened for nothing. You can tell her about the girls much more convincingly than it could be written, and bring her back with you to see them. It will all be natural and Estelle will never suspect."

"I'll do it," said Mrs. Thayne, but the next second a shadow crossed her face. Her sharp-eyed son instantly saw and interpreted.

"I'll not overdo, Mother," he said immediately. "Trust me to rival the sloth in idleness. I promise you that I won't stir one step out of my usual routine."

"But there's Roger," mused his mother.

"Oh, Roger is walking the straight and narrow path of virtue. Ever since ex-scoutmaster Bill Fish rescued him from a desert island, he's been meekness itself. Makes me smile to see his star-eyed devotion. This plan is too evidently designed, for you to give it the cold shoulder."

"It does seem so," agreed his mother. "Well, I'll go by Sat.u.r.day's boat. Win, don't you think it would be best not to say anything to Fran and Roger? We will tell them after I have seen Carrie."

"I certainly do," Win declared. "Fran couldn't keep that secret one half day. It wouldn't interest the kid."

The absence of the family did not prevent Win's enjoyment of the Manor library and during his mother's stay in London, he paid it several visits. Evidently the servants had been instructed to expect and make him welcome, should he appear, for a smiling face answered his ring and the fire in the library was invariably lighted on his arrival. But Win's conscience would not allow him to neglect Roger even for these delightful hours of solitude, so this pleasure was only occasional.

With the pony and gingle they explored many of the lovely Jersey lanes and headlands, for driving seldom tired Win. Half a morning pa.s.sed in this fascinating occupation left Roger ready to spend the time before luncheon in preparing his lessons. When they were over in the afternoon, Mr. Fisher usually suggested kicking football on the beach or led Roger a walk sufficiently strenuous to leave him disposed for a quiet evening. Estelle and Nurse both thought Roger "good as gold," and did not realize how much of his virtue was due to the forethought of brother and tutor.

One morning Estelle had errands in town and invited Roger to go with her. Hearing his joyful acceptance, Win as gladly betook himself to the Manor.

Spring was far advanced now, potatoes were being planted and other early vegetables already showing in green rows. Under the trees on the Manor grounds wild snow-drops starred the gra.s.s. Win wandered into the formal garden enclosed by a hedge of box so clipped as to form a solid wall with square pillars topped by round b.a.l.l.s of living green. In the background posed two peac.o.c.ks, also clipped from box. What patience, time and care had been required to bring that hedge to such perfection! Early roses were now plentiful and as Win sauntered through their fragrant mazes, he realized how much loving thought had been expended through the centuries on this old garden. Sad indeed that the present owner of Laurel Manor was the last Richard Lisle.

Win's reverie was broken by the pa.s.sing of Pierre, with a pleasant "_Bon jour, M'sieur_," and a touch of his cap. Pierre carried a rope and crowbar, unusual implements for a gardener's a.s.sistant.

Win watched him idly down the laurel-bordered drive and then went into the library, followed by Tylo, who seemed depressed in the absence of his mistress.

About eleven, Win was visited by Yvonne, bringing a gla.s.s of milk and a plate of biscuit, which she placed beside him with a politely murmured "M'sieur labors so diligently!"

"Thank you, Yvonne," said Win. "It's good of you to bring that. Do you know when the Colonel and Miss Connie are expected?"

"No word since they arrived at Paris," replied Yvonne in her daintily accented English.

"It is Pierre who hears from M'sieur Max, a letter, brief indeed, but explicit, that certain matters may arrange themselves in readiness for the coming of M'sieur Max."

Win looked puzzled. For a second Yvonne stood regarding him, her head slightly on one side.

"Word will perhaps arrive on the morrow," she volunteered. "Is the milk to M'sieur's liking?"

"Very much. Thank you, Yvonne."

The trim little maid replenished the fire, replaced a daffodil fallen from a vase, patted Tylo, gave him a biscuit and vanished as noiselessly as she came.

Left alone, Win began to walk slowly up and down the library, wondering about the matters which were "to arrange themselves."

The tools Pierre carried, the direction in which he was walking, to Win's alert mind suggested the Manor cave. Had Max told Pierre to complete clearing away that heap of stones and if so, why?

Never in his life had Win been so tempted to break his word. In spite of the voluntary promise to his mother to do nothing in the least unusual, it seemed as though he _must_ go and see what was taking place in the cave.

"Pierre would help me up," he told himself.

"Yes," came the instant answer, "but Roger gave you all the help he could and yet you were in bed two days and felt ill for a week."

Win thought of questioning Pierre, but abandoned the idea as not quite on the level. A note from Max had come on yesterday's steamer presumably in company with the directions to Pierre. There was not a word in it about the cave and if the writer had wanted Win to know what was going on, he would have told him. No, Win's code of honor would not permit him to find out by asking Pierre.

And yet two weeks until Easter!

Win gave a long whistle, looked wistfully down to the sea and again took up his book.

When he returned for luncheon at Rose Villa, he found Roger convulsing Frances by his account of the morning spent in town with Estelle.

"It's lucky I don't have to do the marketing for this family," he announced. "If you wanted cream now, where would you get it?"

"A dairy, of course, or a market," replied Frances.

"Wrong. Much cream you'd get! Try a fish-monger's."

At Roger's disgusted tone, Fran giggled, "Oh, I've learned a lot,"

he went on. "Where would you ask for one of those paper patterns to cut out a dress?"

"A dry-goods store," answered his sister.

"Do say a draper's if that is what you mean," continued Roger.

"You would only waste time. Go to a book-shop."