THE BACKWARD GLANCE
The next twenty-four hours were spent in delightful speculation. So her
name was Cecily Marlowe! Was she any relation of Miss Benedict?
"Marlowe" and "Benedict" were certainly dissimilar enough.
"But then she might be a relation on Miss Benedict's mother's side,"
suggested Marcia.
"Does it sound likely when you think what she said just at the
last--that she didn't know why she was there?" replied Janet,
scornfully. "She couldn't be in doubt about it if she were a _relation_,
either come on a visit or there to stay!" Which argument settled _that_
question.
"But where do you suppose she has come from?" marveled Marcia. "She said
she'd always lived in a little country village, and she didn't know a
thing about American money. She's foreign--that's certain. Even her
clothes and her way of speaking show it. But from where?"
"Did you notice that she said 'shilling'?" suggested Janet. "That shows
she must be English. She _looks_ English. Now will you tell me how she
could get 'way over here from England and not know why she had come?"
"It sounds as if she might have been kidnapped," said Marcia. "Why,
Janet! this is precisely like a mystery in a book. Do you _realize_ it?
And here we are living right next door to it! It's too good to be true!"
Janet's mind had, however, gone off on another tack. "I can't understand
that remark she made about the music. 'Traeumerei' is certainly about as
well known as any piece of classic music. She said she never remembered
hearing it, and yet it seems somehow familiar to her. Can you make
anything out of _that_?"
Marcia couldn't. "Maybe it's all just a notion," she suggested
helplessly. "Suppose I play some on the violin here in our window right
now. She seems to enjoy it so. And maybe she'll open her shutter
again."
So they sat on the window-seat, and Marcia played her very best,
including the "Traeumerei," but no golden head appeared from behind the
shutter that afternoon.
"Never mind," said Janet. "We'll see her to-morrow, most likely. Perhaps
she's busy downstairs now."
"But isn't she the prettiest little thing!" mused Marcia, reminiscently.
"The loveliest big blue eyes, and curly golden hair, and such a
_trusting_ look in her face, somehow! It went right down to the very
bottom of my heart, if it doesn't sound silly to put it that way."
"Yes, I know," agreed Janet. "I felt the same way. But doesn't it strike
you queer that--"
"Oh, the whole thing's queer!" interrupted Marcia. "The queerest I ever
heard of. I guess you agree with me now, Janet, that I had a secret
worth talking about in 'Benedict's Folly.' But let's wait till to-morrow
and see what happens."
The morrow came and went, however, and nothing happened at all. Hour
after hour the two girls watched for the signal of the white
handkerchief, but every shuttered window of the old mansion remained
blank. Neither did any one go in or out of the gate. Late in the
afternoon Marcia played again at the window, but the sweetest music
called forth not a single sign from behind the walls of the house next
door. Janet had but one solution to offer.
"They probably didn't need any marketing done to-day, so she naturally
didn't go out."
"But why couldn't she have at least looked out a moment from her
window?" cried Marcia, disconsolately. "Surely that would have been easy
to do, when she said she cared so much for the music. She must have
_known_ I was playing just for her!"
"She may have been somewhere in the house where she couldn't. You can't
tell, and oughtn't to blame her without knowing," declared Janet,
defending the conduct of the mysterious Cecily. "To-morrow we'll see her
again, no doubt."
On the morrow her prophecy was fulfilled. They did see her again, but
under circumstances so peculiar that they were quite dumfounded.
All the morning they watched and waited in vain for some signal from the
upper window. But none came. And the main part of the afternoon passed
in precisely the same way. They sat very conspicuously in their own
window-seat, so that there could be no doubt in Cecily's mind about
their being at home. Marcia even did a little violin practice while they
waited. And still there was no sign. Suddenly, about five o'clock, Janet
clutched at her chum's arm.
"Look!" she cried.
Marcia looked, and down the path from the front door of the strange
house she saw Cecily, dressed to go out, approaching the gate. It was
plain that she was bound on another marketing expedition for the basket
hung from her arm.
"_Well!_ what do you make of that!" exclaimed Marcia in bewilderment.
"Did she signal to us?"
"No, she didn't," returned Janet. "I've watched every minute. She
_couldn't_ have forgotten it. But, do you know, there may be some very
good reason why she didn't--or couldn't--and perhaps she's hoping we'll
see her, and be on hand outside, anyway, as we promised."
"But she _must_ have seen us sitting in the window," argued Marcia. "She
might at least have looked up and waved her hand, or nodded, or
smiled--or something!"
Cecily, meanwhile, was fumbling with the lock of the big old gate, which
seemed, as on a former occasion, to give her a great deal of trouble.
"Come," cried Janet to Marcia. "We'll just about have time to catch her
if we hurry." And seizing their hats, the girls hastened downstairs.
Their front door closed behind them just as Cecily came abreast of them.
What happened next was like a blow in the face!
[Illustration: Cecily Marlowe passed them by without a look]
They had started forward, each with a friendly smile, expecting their
new companion to meet them in similar fashion. To their amazement,
Cecily Marlowe, after the first sudden look into their faces, dropped
her eyes, and passed them by without a glance, precisely as if they were
utter strangers to her.
Both girls gasped, stared at her departing figure till she turned the
corner, and then into each other's faces.
"The ungrateful little thing!" Marcia presently exploded. "If that
wasn't the 'cut direct,' I've never seen it before!"
"An unmistakable way of telling us to mind our own business!" even Janet
had to admit. "How humiliating! And yet--"
"Yet--what?" demanded Marcia, indignantly. "You're surely not going to
try to excuse such inexcusable conduct as _that_! I see very plainly
what's happened. She's thought it over and decided that we were
meddlesome and just trying to _push_ an acquaintance with her, and she
thinks she's a little too exclusive for that kind of thing, and the
simple remedy was to 'cut us dead'!" Marcia was quite out of breath when
she finished this summing up.
"It _does_ look like it," Janet admitted. "But somehow, even yet, I
can't feel that she _wanted_ to do it--of her own accord, I mean."
But Marcia couldn't see it in that light. They discussed the question
hotly, still standing on the front stoop of the apartment. So long, in
fact, did they argue it back and forth, turning and twisting the sorry
little occurrence, viewing it in every possible light, that before they
realized it, Cecily was returning, her errands accomplished. How she had
managed to find her way and cross the streets in safety, they could only
conjecture.
To reach her own gate, she had to pass directly by where they were
standing, and they saw her approaching down the block.
"Here she comes," muttered Marcia. "Now, let's stand right here and
watch her as she goes by. She can't _help_ but see us. We'll give her
one more chance to do the proper thing."
And so they waited, breathless, expectant, while the girl came rapidly
on, her eyes cast down, watching the pavement. But even when she was
quite in front of them, she did not once look up, and without comment
their gaze followed her retreating figure to the gate.
As she fitted the big key and swung the gate open, they were just about
to turn to each other in angry impatience when something else happened.
Cecily Marlowe turned her head and looked back at them for one long,
tense moment. It was such a wistful, imploring look, a gaze so full of
appeal for forgiveness, so plainly in contrast with her recent conduct,
that their hearts melted at once.
Simultaneously they waved their hands and smiled at her, and she smiled
back in return, the most adorable little smile in the world, full of
trust and confidence and utter friendliness.
Then she hurried in and closed the gate, leaving her two new friends
outside more bewildered than ever.