THE OLD ATTIC
Jingling her keys happily, Jannet went up the attic stairs, which led
from the second floor back hall by a door not far from Paulina's room.
More than once she had heard Jan and Chick clattering down the two
flights, first the attic stairs, banging the door shut, then the back
stairs from the second floor to the first. If _they_ were not afraid to
be up there, why should _she_ be afraid of the attic?
She did wish for Nell, though on second thought she came to the
conclusion that it was just as well for her to investigate alone first.
There might be things that some one outside the family could not
appreciate. Family was a big thing to Jannet just now. Had she not just
acquired one?
Inserting her key in the lock of the door opposite Jan's den, she found
that it did not turn anything in the right direction to unlock it. She
immediately tried the door and found that it was already unlocked.
"H'lo, P'lina," she said, for there was Paulina, bending over a small
trunk, her own, without doubt. "Do you keep some things up here, too?
Aren't you afraid of the ghost?" Jannet was laughing as she spoke, but
Paulina straightened up and favored Jannet with a stony stare. Then
without a word she bent again and locked her trunk.
Jannet stood quietly, looking around at boxes and trunks neatly placed
in this part of the attic, and at dim shapes further along, where
boards had been laid over the rafters and lath.
"You ought not to be up here," hoarsely said Paulina at last. "I'm
going now; come. I want to lock the attic door."
"I asked Uncle Pieter for permission," Jannet returned, "and Cousin
Diana gave me these keys. I did not expect to find any one at all here."
Jannet dangled her keys before Paulina's eyes. "_Why_ don't you think I
ought to be here, Paulina? If there is anything wrong with the place,
Uncle Pieter ought to be told."
"Your uncle knows all that he wants to know," replied Paulina. She
frowned and was obviously displeased at Jannet's being there. Jannet
wondered what she would have thought if Nell had come, too. But Paulina
could just get over thinking that she could run everything.
At Miss Hilliard's school, Jannet was in the habit of obedience to her
elders. Here, too, she respected the authority of her uncle and her
cousins, but beyond them, Jannet's Dutch independence asserted itself.
"I'm sorry, Paulina," Jannet said courteously, "that you don't want me
to be in the attic, but I have every right to be here and I shall stay.
You need not be worried about anything of yours. I shall not touch your
trunk, and if you will tell me what else is yours, I will certainly
keep away from it."
But Paulina made no reply. She stalked out with her usual stiffness,
leaving the door open.
"Of all the impolite people, you are the worst I ever saw," thought
Jannet, but she did not say it aloud. Perhaps, after all, Paulina's
silence was better than harsh words.
The field was Jannet's. What should she do first? She did not quite
like to explore the dim recesses, beyond the wider, well floored part,
when she was by herself. Perhaps she would reserve that till Nell could
be with her. There was a window in this part, shut and fastened with a
nail, loosely pushed in. Jannet pulled out the nail, raising the old,
small-paned window and finding that it would not stay up. But she saw a
piece of wood that must have been used for the purpose and with this
she propped the window, letting the fresh air in and also increasing
the amount of light, for there was a calico curtain over the window
panes, tacked to the frame.
It was quite neat here, not newly mopped or fresh as the other parts of
the house were, but the floor had been swept back as far as the rows of
trunks and chests extended. Jannet's eye was caught by an old single
bed, whose length extended along one wall, away from the window. On
this were bundles, of odd sizes, she guessed, from the different bulges
in the old cover over the whole, a piece of yellowed, gay-figured
percale, or muslin of a sort.
A rickety rocking-chair, of modern make, and a tall, gray-painted
cupboard were the only pieces of furniture that Jannet could see. It
was quite evident that her uncle had had all the valuable furniture of
an older day put into use, keeping no useless articles to fill the
attic. Even the old, old cradle stood in the old kitchen, not far from
the old, old settle, with its rockers, too.
Jannet's eye, which had become practiced by this time among the
so-called antiques, recognized something good in the narrow bed against
the wall. That was an old-timer, too; but there was, perhaps, no place
for it, or it was not quite ancient enough. Jannet lifted the gay cover
to peer beneath. One bundle, newly tied in newspapers not quite
covering the contents, showed comforters, put away now for the warmer
season. Bundles of longer standing showed dingy in muslin covers.
These, surely, were not interesting. A long, painted chest whose lock
was broken, disclosed piles of extra sheets, pillow cases and other
stores of the same kind, when Jannet lifted its worn lid. But the
trunks were more attractive in possibilities, and Jannet tried to read
the names or letters on their sides. Here was one that must have been
her grandmother's and this big one had her mother's initials upon it.
She would open that pretty soon. And oh, what odd little things those
were in the corner, two square, black trunks, if you could call them
that. They were more like boxes in size, but they had all the straps of
a trunk. And if there wasn't a little old hair trunk under the two of
them! It was a wonder that Uncle Pieter had not taken it down into the
kitchen!
Jannet decided to open her mother's trunk and looked through her keys,
trying several before she found one which would fit the lock. Her
mother might have put away the contents just before her marriage,
thinking that she would soon be home again to look them over. Jannet
pulled the trunk out from the rest, opened the top and drew up the
rickety rocking-chair, which she tried carefully before trusting
herself to it.
Comfortably seated, with a few rays of the afternoon sunlight coming
over her shoulder to the trunk, Jannet commenced her survey. There were
all sorts of "cubbies" in this trunk. One in the very top of the trunk
opened down, when one loosened a leather strap from a button. But in
this there were only a handful of flowers ripped from some hat, some
pink roses, still very pretty, and a wreath of yellow buttercups and
green leaves. Jannet decided to get a big sun hat and wear that wreath
this summer.
In the top tray, two hats, perfectly good, but of a style impossible to
wear now, occupied the compartment for hats, with several veils and
more French flowers. Some letters were loosely packed in along the
sides, with some foreign postcards, much scribbled.
In the compartment next, there were a pile of old music, some note
books, photographs, more letters, and over all a sheer white organdy
dress, washed but not ironed, and pressed in irregularly to fill the
compartment.
Jannet lifted out this tray to find another beneath it. Ah, _here_ were
pretty things! Neatly folded, a light blue silk lay on top, covered
with a linen towel. A lace and net dress was beneath this. Jannet did
not disturb the folds. These could be examined when she had more of the
day before her.
In the lower part of the trunk, Jannet found more pretty clothes and a
box containing her mother's wedding veil. This, indeed, she drew out,
handling it with a certain reverence. Yes, it was the veil in the
picture, delicate, with rose point lace and the pretty crown still as
it had been worn except for the orange blossoms. These Jannet found
lying in another box among the dresses. Dry and ready to fall to pieces
at a touch, they were easily recognized, nevertheless.
Touched and silent, Jannet sat still for a few moments, the veil half
out of the box in her hands, the little box with the orange blossoms
open beside her. It was sad, but it was worth everything to have these
things that made her mother so real, her pretty mother!
For a little while Jannet sat and read a few of the letters. It could
do no harm. They were from girl friends, some of them to accompany
wedding presents or to announce their impending arrival. "May you have
a long and happy life together," said one. "Douglas is a dear. I had an
eye on him myself, but it was of no use, with you singing the heart out
of him!"
Girls then were much as they were now, Jannet thought. From her short
span of years it did seem so long ago.
Pulling out her mother's trunk had disclosed a small box behind it, a
pretty box of dark wood, stained and rubbed like the nice furniture of
the house. The lock was of gilt, a little discolored, but the whole
looked like something valuable, or at least interesting. Jannet tried
all her keys without success and then, without thinking more of the
box, she went back to the trunk, becoming deeply engaged in the
contents of a little pasteboard box which was full of funny notes and
the treasures of her mother's younger days. There was even a tiny doll,
dressed in a wee silken dress with a train. And in the bottom of the
box there was a brass key,--the very one which might fit the little
dark box. Replacing the pasteboard box, Jannet with some curiosity
tried the key and found that it opened the other box.
A piece of old muslin covered the contents. This Jannet raised to find
an old doll with a cloth body, some doll clothes, stained and faded and
under these some doll dishes, carefully packed.
These could not have been her mother's. They were too old, too odd.
Suddenly it seemed lonesome. Jannet began to feel nervous and
depressed. She blamed herself for being a little goose, not in the
least realizing that a sensitive girl of her sympathies could not help
having her feelings worn upon a little by all this.
Jumping up from locking the little box again, Jannet closed the trunk
which was proving to be such a treasure chest. She had scarcely
disturbed part of it, and there were other delightful possibilities in
prospect before her. She must have Nell over soon, for while she could
go on by herself, and in a way she preferred to find her mother's
things by herself, still,--Nell was sensible, smart and good company.
She would take an interest, too, in discovering any source of ghostly
revels. If Nell were afraid, this part of the attic, at least, offered
no signs of anything but ordinary storage.
Now, if she could only conciliate Paulina in some way and hear all that
"old P'lina" thought about it. That was a good plan! She would try it!