CHAPTER VII
GOLIATH MAKES ANOTHER DISCOVERY
"Oh, Cynthia!" gasped Joy at length, "isn't it too comical! We're justas far from it all as ever!" And they both fell to chuckling again.
They were certainly no nearer the solution of their problem. For, facingthe room once more, the mysterious picture looked forth--the portrait of_two babies_! They were plump, placid babies, aged probably about two orthree years, and they appeared precisely alike. It took no great stretchof imagination to conjecture what they were--twins--and evidentlybrother and sister, for one youngster's dress, being a trifle severe instyle, indicated that it was doubtless a boy. These two cherubic infantshad both big brown eyes, fat red cheeks, and adorable, fluffy goldencurls. They were pictured as sitting, hand in hand, on a green bankunder a huge spreading tree and gazing solemnly toward a distant churchsteeple.
"The poor little things!" cried Cynthia. "Think of them having beenturned to the wall all these years! Now what was the sense of it,--twoinnocent babies like that!" But Joyce had not been listening. All atonce she put down her candle on the table and faced her companion.
"I've got it!" she announced. "It came to me all of a sudden. Of coursethose babies are twins, brother and sister. Any one can tell that! Well,don't you see, one of them--the girl--was our Lovely Lady. The other washer twin brother. It's all as clear as day! The twin brother didsomething she didn't like, and she turned his picture to the wall. Hershappened to be in the same frame too, but she evidently didn't careabout that. Now what have you to say, Cynthia Sprague?"
"You must be right," admitted Cynthia. "I thought we were 'stumped'again when I first saw that picture, but it's been of some use, afterall. Do you suppose the miniature was a copy of the same thing?"
"It may have been, or perhaps it was just the brother alone when he wasolder. We can't tell about that." All this while Cynthia had beenstanding, candle in one hand and dust-cloth in the other. At that pointshe put the candlestick on the table and stood gazing intently at thedust-cloth. Presently she spoke:
"Joyce, _do_ you think there would be any harm in my doing somethingI've longed to do ever since we first entered this house?"
"What in the world is that?" queried Joyce.
"Why, I want to _dust_ this place, and clear out of the way some of thedirt and cobwebs! They worry me terribly. And, besides, I'd like to seewhat this lovely furniture looks like without such quantities of dustall over it."
"Good scheme, Cyn!" cried Joyce, instantly delighted with the new idea."I'll tell you what! We'll come in here this afternoon with old clotheson, and have a regular _house-cleaning_! It can't hurt anything, I'msure, for we won't disturb things at all. I'll bring a dust-cloth, too,and an old broom. But let's go and finish our studying now, and get thatout of the way. Hurrah for house-cleaning, this afternoon!"
Filled with fresh enthusiasm, the two girls rushed out to hurry throughthe necessary studies before the anticipated picnic of the afternoon. Iftheir respective mothers had requested them to perform so arduous a taskas this at home, they would, without doubt, have been instantly plungedinto deep despair. But because they were to execute the work in an olddeserted mansion saturated with mystery, no pleasure they could think ofwas to be compared with it. This thought, however, did not enter theheads of the enthusiastic pair.
* * * * *
Smuggling the house-cleaning paraphernalia into the cellar window,unobserved, that afternoon, proved no easy task, for Cynthia had added awhisk-broom and dust-pan to the outfit. Joyce came to the fray with anold broom and a dust-cloth, which latter she thought she had carefullyconcealed under her sweater. But a long end soon worked out and trailedbehind her unnoticed, till Goliath, basking on the veranda steps, spiedit. The lure proved too much for him, and he came sporting after it, asfriskily as a young kitten, much to Cynthia's delight when she caughtsight of him.
"Oh, let him come along!" she urged. "I do love to see him about thatold house. He makes it sort of cozier. And, besides, he seems to belongto it, anyway. You know he discovered it first!" And so Goliath followedinto the Boarded-up House.
They began on the drawing-room. Before they had been at work very long,they found that they had "let themselves in" for a bigger task than theyhad dreamed. Added to that, performing it by dim candle-light did notlessen its difficulties, but rather increased them tenfold. First theytook turns sweeping, as best they could, with a very ancient and frowsybroom, the thick, moth-eaten carpet. When they had gone over it once,and taken up what seemed like a small cart-load of dust, they foundthat, after all, there remained almost as much as ever on the floor.Cynthia was for going over it again.
"Oh, never mind it!" sighed Joyce. "My arms ache and so do yours. We'lldo it again another time. Now let's dust the furniture and pictures."And they fell to work with whisk-broom and dust-cloths. Half an hourlater, exhausted and grimy, they dropped into chairs and surveyed theresults. It was, of course, as but a drop in the bucket, in comparisonwith all the scrubbing and cleaning that was needed. Yet, little as itwas, it had already made a vast difference in the aspect of the room.Surface dust at least had been removed, and the fine old furniture gavea hint of its real elegance and polish. Joyce glanced at the big hangingcandelabrum and sighed with weariness. Then she suddenly remarked:
"Cynthia, we have the _dimmest_ light here with only those two candles!Why not have some more burning?"
"We've only three left," commented Cynthia, practical as ever. "And mypocket-money is getting low again, and you haven't any left, as usual.So we'd better economize till allowance day!"
"Tell you what!" cried Joyce, freshly inspired. "I've the loveliestidea! Don't you just long to know what this room would look like withthat big candelabrum going? I do. They say illumination by candle-lightis the prettiest in the world. Sometime I'm going to buy enough waxcandles to fill that whole chandelier--or candelabrum rather--and we'lllight it just once and see how it makes things look. What do you say?"
"It'll cost you a good deal more than a dollar," remarked Cynthia, afteran interval spent in calculation. "Of course I'd like to see it too, soI'll go halves with you on the expense. And I don't believe we can getnice _wax_ candles, only penny tallow ones. But they'll have to do. Iwonder, though, if people could see the light from the street, throughany chinks in the boarding?"
"Of course not," said Joyce. "Don't you see how all the inside shuttersare closed and the velvet curtains drawn? It isn't possible. Then we'llhave the illumination for a treat, sometime, and I'll begin to save upfor it. And I hope before that time we'll have puzzled out this mystery.I'm afraid we aren't very good detectives, or we'd have done it longbefore this. Sherlock Holmes would have!"
"But remember," suggested Cynthia, "that those Sherlock Holmes mysterieswere usually solved very soon after the thing happened. This took placeyears and years ago. I reckon we're doing pretty nearly as well asSherlock, when you come to think of it."
"Perhaps that's so," admitted Joyce, thoughtfully. "It's not so easyafter goodness knows how many years! But I'm rested now. Come and seewhat we can do with the library. I'm wild to look at the Lovely Ladyagain. I really think I _love_ that picture!" And so, in the adjoiningroom, they stood a while with elevated candles, gazing fascinated at theportrait of the beautiful woman.
"She's lovely, lovely, lovely!" sighed Joyce. "Oh, wouldn't I like tohave known her! And do you notice, Cynthia, she has the same big browneyes of the girl-baby in the parlor. There isn't a doubt but what thatbaby was she."
They tore themselves away from the portrait after a time, and commenceddigging at the dust and cobwebs of the library. But they were thoroughlytired after their heroic struggles with the drawing-room, and made, onthe whole, but little progress. Added to this, their enthusiasm forcleaning-up had waned considerably.
"I guess we'll have to leave this for another day," groaned Joyce atlast. "I'm just dog-tired!"
"All right," assented Cynthia, in muffled tones, her head being under ag
reat desk in the corner. "But wait till I finish sweeping out underhere. _Mercy!_ what's that? I just touched something soft!" On theinstant, Joyce was at her side with the candle.
"Why, it's Goliath as usual!" they both cried, peering in. "Isn't he thegreatest for getting into odd corners!" Far at the back sat Goliath,curled into a comfortable ball, his front paws tucked under, and purringloudly.
"He's sitting on an old newspaper, I think," said Joyce. "He always doesthat if he can find one, because they're warm." Suddenly she snatched atthe paper so violently that Goliath went tobogganing off with aprotesting "meouw."
"Look, look, Cynthia!" she exclaimed, brushing off a cloud of dust withthe whisk-broom, and pointing to the top of the sheet. "Here's one ofthe biggest discoveries yet!" And Cynthia, following her index-finger,read aloud:
"'Tuesday, April 16, 1861.'"
"Which proves," added Joyce, "that whatever happened here didn't takeplace much _earlier_ than this date, or the paper wouldn't be here. Whatwe want to do now is hunt around and see if there are any newspapers ofa _later_ date. Let's do it this minute!"
Forgetting all their weariness, they seized their candles and scurriedthrough the house, finding an occasional paper tucked away in some oddcorner. But upon examination these all proved to be of earlier date thanthat of their first discovery. And when it was clear that there were nomore to be found, Joyce announced:
"Well, I'm convinced that the Boarded-up House mystery happened notearlier than April 16, 1861, and probably not much later. That's overforty years ago, for this is 1905! Just think, Cynthia, of this placestanding shut up and untouched and lonely all that time! It'swonderful!" But Cynthia had turned and snatched up Goliath.
"You precious cat!" she crooned to him as he struggled unappreciativelyin her embrace. "You're the best detective of us all! We ought to changeyour name to 'Sherlock Holmes'!"