The Boarded-Up House by C. Clyde Squires Read Free Book Online

“She may have stayed long enough to see the boarding up done, or she may have ordered some one to do it later. It can be done from the outside.”
    â€œI think she was foolish to leave all her good clothes,” commented Cynthia, “and the locket under the bed, too.”
    â€œI don’t believe she remembered the locket—or cared about it!” mused Joyce. “She was probably too upset and hurried to think of it again. And I’m sure she lay on the bed and cried a good deal. It looks like that. Now what do you think of my theory, Cynthia?”
    â€œWhy, I think it is all right, fine—as far as it goes. I never could have pieced things together in that way. But you haven’t thought about who this mysterious relative was, have you?”
    â€œYes, I have, but, of course, that’s much harder to decide because we have so little to go on. I’ll tell you one thing I’ve pretty nearly settled, though. Whatever happened, it wasn’t that anybody died! When people die, you’re terribly grieved and upset, of course, and you may shut up your house and never come near it again. I’ve heard of such things happening. But you generally put things nicely to rights first, and you don’t go away and forget more than half your belongings. If you don’t tend to these things yourself, you get some one else to do it for you. And one other thing is certain too. You don’t turn the dead relative’s picture to the wall or tear it out of your locket and throw it into the fire. You’d be far more likely to keep the picture always near so that you could look at it often. Isn’t that so?”
    â€œOf course!” assented Cynthia.
    â€œThen it must have been the other thing that happened. Somebody did something wrong, or disappointing, or disgraceful. It must have been a dreadful thing, to make the Lovely Lady desert that house forever. I can’t imagine what!”
    â€œBut what about the locked-up room?” interrupted Cynthia. “Have you any theory about that? You haven’t mentioned it.”
    â€œThat’s something I simply can’t puzzle out,” confessed Joyce. “The Lovely Lady must have locked it, or the disgraceful relative may have done it, or some one entirely different. I can’t make any sense out of it.”
    â€œWell, Joy,” answered Cynthia, “you’ve a theory about what happened, and it certainly sounds sensible. Now, have you any about what relative it was? That’s the next most interesting thing.”
    â€œI don’t think it could have been her father or mother,” replied Joyce, thoughtfully. “Parents aren’t liable to cause that kind of trouble, so we’ll count them out. She looks very young, not nearly old enough to have a son or daughter who would do anything very dreadful, so we’ll count them out. (Isn’t this just like the ‘elimination’ in algebra!) That leaves only brother, sister, or husband to be thought about.”
    â€œYou forget aunts, uncles, and cousins!” interposed Cynthia.
    â€œOh, Cyn! how absurd! They are much too distant. It must have been some one nearer than that, to matter so much!”
    â€œI think it’s most likely her husband, then,” decided Cynthia. “He’d matter most of all.”
    â€œYes, I’ve thought of that, but here’s the objection: her husband, supposing she had one, Would probably have owned this house. Consequently he wouldn’t be likely to allow it to be shut up forever in this queer way. He’d come back after a while and do what he pleased with it. No, I don’t think it was her husband, or that she was married at all. It must have been either a sister or brother,—a younger one probably,—and the Lovely Lady loved her—or him—better than any one else in the world.”
    â€œLook here!” interrupted Cynthia, suddenly.