"Who do you think wrote it?" asked Dale breathlessly.
Miss Cornelia straightened up like a ramrod--indomitable.
"A fool--that's who! If anything was calculated to make me stay
here forever, this sort of thing would do it!"
She twitched the sheet of paper angrily.
"But--something may happen, darling!"
"I hope so! That's the reason I--"
She stopped. The doorbell was ringing again--thrilling, insistent.
Her niece started at the sound.
"Oh, don't let anybody in!" she besought Miss Cornelia as Billy
came in from the hall with his usual air of walking on velvet.
"Key, front door please--bell ring," he explained tersely, taking
the key from the table.
Miss Cornelia issued instructions.
"See that the chain is on the door, Billy. Don't open it all the
way. And get the visitor's name before you let him in."
She lowered her voice.
"If he says he is Mr. Anderson, let him in and take him to the
library."
Billy nodded and disappeared. Dale turned to her aunt, the color
out of her cheeks.
"Anderson? Who is Mr.--"
Miss Cornelia did not answer. She thought for a moment. Then she
put her hand on Dale's shoulder in a gesture of protective affection.
"Dale, dear--you know how I love having you here--but it might be
better if you went back to the city."
"Tonight, darling?" Dale managed a wan smile. But Miss Cornelia
seemed serious.
"There's something behind all this disturbance--something I don't
understand.
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