TWO NEW MYSTERIES
There was some secret between Jan and Old P'lina, Jannet could see, but
it was scarcely polite to intercept their glances. Jannet told herself
that she must mind her own affairs strictly. Yet it was hard to do it
in this environment. Jannet felt that Jan was joking considerably when
he talked of the ghosts of the old house, but Paulina wasn't she was
sure. For some strange reason, nevertheless, Jannet grew more and more
fond of her pretty, quaint room. Perhaps the face upon the wall
accounted for that. In that sweet presence nothing would harm Jannet,
yet Jannet was enough of a little girl not to be entirely unshaken by
the stories, especially when remembering the blue comforter. It had
never appeared again. Paulina did not inquire about it and Jannet did
not mention it to Paulina.
The April days were warm, though in this climate they are often very
cool indeed. It could not last, Jan said, but they would make the most
of it. Forsaking Chick and his other friends, Jan devoted himself to
taking Jannet riding over the farm and all about the country. One would
have thought that he owned it all, so anxious was he to impress Jannet
favorably.
The Clydes came over to meet Jannet, who now always used the two n's in
her name. She was "as Dutch as kraut," Jan told her, and on the land of
her ancestors. With this she was quite content. She liked Nell Clyde
and felt a little shy with the two boys, but no more so than they felt
with the girl from the Philadelphia school.
A cruel fate was taking Chick back to school after the short Spring
vacation, but Jan, though with no grounds that Jannet could see, still
hoped to escape. He introduced Jannet as his twin, Jannetje Jan, and
they all had several rides together on the roads near home. As Nell was
being tutored at home, Jannet expected to have her companionship after
the boys had gone back to school. Tom, a little older, was not always
with the rest, but all the boys were often in Jan's shop, not far
enough from Jannet's room to prevent her hearing the sounds of their
conversation and laughter.
No one as yet suggested that it was time for Jannet to go on with her
lessons, and Jannet was enjoying her rest far too much to make any
inquiry concerning them. At odd times she browsed among her uncle's
books and it was when she opened one of them that she made a discovery.
A little torn strip of paper fell out of the book from where it might
have been used as a book-mark by some one.
Idly Jannet looked at the bit of paper which she held in her hand
still, though turning the pages of the book to see whether it looked
interesting or not. But seeing the name "Jannet" in full, she laid
aside the book and examined the paper more closely.
It was part of a letter, or note, she decided. Perhaps some one had
picked the scrap from a waste paper basket at hand and used it as a
marker without looking at it. Surely,--well, how odd! "Please,
_please_, Pieter, help me find them," it said. "I have"--here the paper
was torn, but below in the irregular places were the words "money" and
"gone." Then below, where one could see through the edge, torn to a
gauzy film, the signature, "Jannet," was plain.
"It is part of a letter from my mother to Uncle Pieter," thought
Jannet. "What does it mean?"
Jannet did not feel like reading now. Taking the scrap of paper with
her, she walked from the library to the hall, down the hall to the
outer door, across a tiny path between tulip beds to the old door with
its queer knocker. Soon she was in her room and at the desk. It was
scarcely worth while to compare the writing with that of her mother, so
sure was she that this was a message from her mother, but she went
through the form.
It was raining again. Her search of the desk had been so casual and
hurried before that this would be a good time to devote to it, with
greater interest, too, because less distracted by the newness of
everything as at first. Jannet admired the rich beauty of the desk,
although she did not know that it was of the Chippendale design, with
considerable carving, and that it had been made for an earlier ancestor
than her mother.
For several hours Jannet opened and closed "secret" drawers which she
had found previously, and read carefully whatever of writing she found
in them. Quickly she learned to recognize her mother's hand. She was
scarcely old enough to appreciate the sentiment attaching to old
programs and faded flowers, but she collected them thoughtfully and put
all such mementos together.
The bundle of letters she untied, to look at the addresses. These were
the love letters, of course; but between the letters she found a few
pages of a diary, quickly recognized by the date at the head and the
accounts that followed. In a moment she was bending over it with deep
interest. One day's account recorded what had been said of her mother's
singing at a private recital, and expressed the hope of a future as a
singer. Another, kept by way of contrast, perhaps, told, with some
reserve even to a personal diary, of her engagement and her lover.
Under a date not long before her marriage, Jannet Van Meter had written
very fully and regretfully of a loss. "I have searched everywhere. I
can not think that any one could have taken my pearls, yet where _are_
they? I put them in my desk, in the most secret of its drawers. I have
not worn them since, and they are gone! It is a great loss in money as
well. Father made some sacrifices to raise the sum necessary for my
pearls,--but he _would_ do it. I was to have them, and Pieter did not
like it, of course. He just smiled when I told him that I had lost them
and would not show the least interest in discussing what might have
become of them, nor would he help me hunt. 'If they're gone, they're
gone,' said he, shrugging his shoulders. Sometimes I've almost
thought,--but no, I'll not even write such an unworthy suspicion.
"I had thought that it would be safe for us to have the pearls, because
if we ever need money very much after we are married,--you and I really
are going to be married, Douglas boy,--we could sell a pearl or two, or
the whole necklace. Perhaps I shall find them yet. I'll never give it
up, not, at least, till I am too far away to hunt. I shall give a
thorough going over to every place to-morrow.
"It is too bad that 'Mother' Eldon can't come on for the wedding. And
we have to go right through to the far West without stopping off
because Douglas must get to his work. But someway, I imagine from her
letter that she is not real happy about her boy's getting married at
all. Perhaps it is just as well for her to get used to the idea before
we meet, though Douglas is just silly enough to say that she will love
me when she sees me and that she couldn't help it. Well, if he loves
me, that is enough for me."
The last page contained a brief account of wedding preparations. No
mention was made of the pearls. "There is no use in trying to write it
all down," Jannetje Van Meter had written at the close. "And to write
of my thoughts and feelings about this change in my life, or about us,
I simply couldn't. I believe that I will tear up my diary, anyhow! This
is _Finis_."
Jannet Eldon was smiling as she finished. Her mother was just a real
girl, after all. She hadn't lived to be very old. How Jannet wished
that she had not burned the diary. Where had she gotten the impression
that her mother would be buried among the Van Meters? Why, of course,
it would be natural, if she had died before her husband. But if she had
been carried off in an epidemic, that would be the reason why her grave
would be out West. Then "Gramma" would want her son buried in the Eldon
lot. That was it. Jannet had once visited that spot, in company with
Miss Hilliard. There was no mystery there; besides, her father and
mother were together now, wherever, apart, the worn-out bodies were.
One of the lovely things about Miss Hilliard was that she had made the
other world so real to Jannet.
Suddenly Jannet rose and went to one of the drawers of the highboy in
which her own treasures now reposed. Rummaging through things not yet
well sorted, Jannet found a note book and drew out several sheets of
writing paper pinned together. True to her promise, Miss Hilliard had
looked up past correspondence, which recalled facts that she had
forgotten. But she and Jannet had not had time to go over it very
thoroughly.
Jannet recalled dimly having labored over a few lines to her
grandmother, because she "ought to," One of the teachers helped her.
Here was the reply, or part of it:
"I was pleased that you wrote me yourself. Be a good child. I hope to
be better soon and to have you at home for your next vacation. So some
of the girls have mothers and you want to know about yours? I will tell
you all that I know when I feel stronger. The nurse is writing for me.
I never saw your mother and the only letters I have had from her were
destroyed by mistake. They were to stop on their way to New York the
summer after you were born. Your father took all your mother's
photographs with him and what became of them I do not know. He came
East so suddenly, half delirious, saying that your mother had died.
"It was very fortunate that I found you both. I had moved, writing and
telegraphing, but from what he said in his delirium he must have moved
too. He was on his way to the old home, when providentially I took the
same train from a business trip to a town near by. I took you both from
the train and to a hospital in the nearest place, a hospital of which I
happened to know. Both of you were ill for weeks and after it was all
over and I could think of sending for any of your father's things, it
was too late. No one seemed to know anything. He was young, just
starting in business, and I was too worn out to care. They were, or had
been living in a furnished apartment. Your father after I found him
never had been himself, only to say, 'She is dead.'
"I wrote to your mother's people several times, but never received a
reply. If they had so little interest, I was only too glad to have my
boy's little girl to myself. 'Gramma' loves you dearly, and when I get
well, we shall have some good times."
This letter was probably read to Jannet at the time, but she could
scarcely recall it. Even there, her grandmother had not mentioned
names, and Miss Hilliard said that the Eldon family Bible sent to
Jannet had no record entered of her father's marriage.
The letters, with the pages of the diary between them, Jannet put back
in their drawer and laid this letter, with the scrap from the book,
with them. That scrap must refer to the loss of the pearls, yet why
should her mother _write_ to her uncle about it? It was puzzling.
Now to find that "most secret drawer." Jannet had all sorts of fancies
about how to find secret drawers. There was one worn spot, with a
narrow piece of yielding wood, in a groove by a little ridge of the
mahogany. Jannet rubbed the worn place, thinking of Aladdin's lamp, but
nothing happened. Then she noticed a tiny glint of brass by the ridge
and pressed it with the point of her knife. There! a drawer, sticking a
little, began to move out. Jannet inserted her fingers and pulled
gently, afraid of breaking the delicate wood. "Oh, how beautiful!" she
exclaimed as the drawer came out to its full length. There, upon the
soft purple velvet of its case, coiled a shining rope of pearls!
With delicate fingers that shook a little, Jannet lifted the case from
the drawer and laid it on the desk before her. As in a dream she took
hold of the glistening strand and drew it up, letting the loops of
pearls unfold from their long curling. What wonderful pearls they were!
Jannet knew little about pearls, but she could appreciate beauty. This
must be very valuable,--her mother's--hers!
Suddenly she lifted them against her cheek while quick tears came to
her eyes. Oh, these had been on her mother's neck the last time that
they were worn. Jannet ran to the picture. Yes, she had worn these when
that photograph was taken. Why had Jannet not thought of that when she
read the diary just now? She looked at the shimmering little pile that
she was holding in two hands. Then she put them around her own neck.
Twice they went around, coming just a little above the round neck of
the dress that Jannet was wearing.
There was no one to see the pretty picture that was made by the
blue-eyed girl with her golden hair, as she stood looking up at the
other older girl so like her. How Jannet loved to feel the pearls on
her neck. She would like to wear them all the time, she thought, but
she sighed as she thought of their value. How many things might have
happened to them in these years, and why had not her mother been able
to find them? There they were, right in the drawer, as her mother must
have put them away,--unless someone had taken them for a joke, or
spite, and put them back later.
That thought troubled Jannet, but she was not right. A more peculiar
circumstance than she could then imagine had hidden the pearls.
Should she tell her uncle about them? Jannet considered that for some
time, while she carefully looped the pearls again and replaced them.
No, she did not believe that she would. She would know her uncle a
little better first before she made a confidant of him. And if she did
tell him about the pearls, or the scrap of paper, for that matter, she
would have somebody else present, too. What if Uncle Pieter should
claim the necklace! Oh, he couldn't have the _heart_ to take anything
of her mother's away from her--but she "guessed she wouldn't tell him
just yet."
Jannet knew that she would not forget where the spring was, but after
she closed the drawer again, she gave the surroundings a rub with her
handkerchief, for want of a duster, and then closed the desk just in
time, for there was a great rapping upon her door. It was Jan, drumming
again on the panels and calling her.
"Jannetje Jan," came the call, with the Dutch Y sound for J.
"Yes, Yan," she answered, running to open the door, for she had slipped
the bolt as well, when she started in on the desk.
"Get ready to ride, won't you? Nell and Chick are out here," said Jan,
adding, when the door was opened, "and worse luck, I've got to go back
with Chick and finish up school! We only have a day or two more of fun!"
"I'll be out in a minute, Jan. I'm aching for a ride. Will you get my
horse ready while I dress?"
"Yep,--intended to. Make it snappy." With this, Jan went away, while
Jannet, elated with her discovery, the mystery of it all, and the
prospect of fun with her young friends, hurried into her riding clothes.