ce! What a funny little daughter it is!"
He kissed her laughingly, as she bade him good night.

But Joyce slept little that night. She was wild for morning to come so
that she could tell Cynthia, and wilder with impatience to think of the
long dragging month ahead before the visit to Great-aunt Lucia, and the
solution of the mystery.

CHAPTER IX

THE MEMORIES OF GREAT-AUNT LUCIA

Cynthia sat at her desk in high school, alternately staring out of the
window, gazing intently across the room at Joyce, and scowling at the
blackboard where the cryptic symbols

(a + b)^2 = a^2 + 2ab + b^2

were being laboriously expounded by the professor of mathematics. Of
this exposition, it is safe to say, Cynthia comprehended not a word for
the following simple reason. Early that morning Joyce had returned from
the visit to her great-aunt Lucia and had entered the class-room late.
Cynthia had not yet had a moment in which to speak with her alone. It
was now the last period of the day, and her impatience had completely
conquered her usual absorbed attention to her studies.

The professor droned on. The class feverishly copied more cryptic
symbols in its notebooks. But at last the closing-bell rang, and after
what seemed interminable and totally unnecessary delays, Cynthia found
herself out of doors, arm-in-arm with Joyce. Then all she could find to
say was:

"Now--_tell me_!" But Joyce was very serious, and very mysterious too.

"Not here," she answered. "I couldn't! Wait!"

"Well, where and when, then?" cried Cynthia.

"Home," said Joyce. Then, after a moment,--"No, I'll tell you in the
Boarded-up House! That's the most appropriate place. We'll go there
straight after we get home." So Cynthia was obliged to repress her
impatience a little longer. But at length they had crept through the
cellar window, lighted their candles, and were proceeding up-stairs.

"Come into the library," said Joyce. "I want to stand right where I can
look at the Lovely Lady when I tell you this. It's all so strange--so
_different_ from what we thought!" So they went through the
drawing-room, entered the library, and placed their candlesticks on the
mantel where the light would best illuminate the portrait of the Lovely
Lady. Then Joyce began.

"Great-aunt Lucia is very old and very feeble. She seemed _so_ glad to
see us all,--especially me. She talked to me a great deal, but I did not
have a chance to mention this place to her at all til