A Court of Inquiry | Page 2

and glow about her whole personality,
as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to
dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the
long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on
the porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young
eyes which see things.
Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty
embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought
about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to
have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of
the girl's family.
It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy,
hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have

about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it
seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly
all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink
hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.
"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
and umbrella upon the bed.
The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis
shoes before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with
a somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
girls are made at home.
* * * * *
I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen
and dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed
only a touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The
Philosopher's needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung
quarters looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a
dainty reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an
embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The closet
door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on
padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small,
smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was
clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the place.
I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best
down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful
custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody
know when she did it.

* * * * *
I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no
electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug
whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk
which had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I
encountered a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a
shoe out of my path.
It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily stands
on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered all
sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without a
premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp and
looked around me.
Well--of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for
dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not
judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights.
I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the
closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane,
and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work
quickly, and returned to lower the light.
It couldn't be--really, no--it couldn't be! There must be some other way
of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall,
now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn
again and again before it struck into light!
It couldn't have been Althea. Yet--those marks were never there before.
It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could