Part 5 (1/2)

Salvey, but the child did not otherwise resemble her mother. It was evident that the name Wren fitted her well--so small, so sweet, so timid, and with such a whispering voice!

Then, her eyes were brown, her hair was brown and, in spite of ill-health, there was a gleam of color in her delicate cheeks.

”What's this?” asked Cora, stepping over to the child and touching a book in her lap.

”Oh, that--that is my story,” replied Wren. ”I want to tell you all about it. Will you have time to wait?” and she looked toward the window, through which could be seen the silent automobiles.

”Indeed, we will,” replied Cora. ”I am so anxious to hear all about it, and I am sure the others are. Do tell us, Wren,” and Cora found a chair quite close to the one on wheels.

Cecilia was fairly ”devouring the child.” The others were plainly much interested. Belle, who evidently regarded the affair as her own particular ”find,” retained the slim hand of the invalid in that of her own healthy palm. Mrs. Salvey was smiling now--even the great sad eyes were throwing out a light, although the light did come from dark and uncertain depths.

Wren opened her book.

”This is my promise book,” she began. ”I have to tell you a long story about it. Then I will ask each of you to make me a promise--it is a very strange promise,” she intoned most seriously. ”But I know some day it will be kept. Some day all these promises will unite in one grand, great demand. Then Fate will have to answer.”

CHAPTER V

A LITTLE BROWN WREN

The girls were awestricken.

Daisy, Maud, Hazel and Ray seemed to shrink closer together on the old mahogany sofa. Cora and the Robinson girls with Cecilia were grouped closely about the sick child.

”It's all about grandfather,” she began. ”I had the dearest, darlingest grandfather, and since he went away I am so lonely. Only for mother,” she added, with something like an apology. ”Of course, I am never really lonely with mother.”

Mrs. Salvey shook her head. Then she picked up the discarded sewing.

”You see,” went on Wren, ”we used to live with grandfather in a beautiful cottage right near the river. He was a sea captain, and couldn't live away from the waves. Then I was strong enough to play on the sands.”

Wren stopped. At the mention of her infirmity a cloud covered her young face. Presently she brightened up and resumed:

”But I am going to be strong again. When I find--”

She tossed her head back and seemed to see something beyond. For a moment no one spoke. The silence was, akin to reverence.

”Then,” sighed the child, ”when we lived by the ocean grandfather went out in a terrible storm--he said he had to go. And he never came back.”

”Oh!” gasped Cora involuntarily.

Cecilia bent so close to Wren that her breath stirred the brown ringlets over the child's ears.

”But, of course,” declared the child vehemently, ”he will come back.

If not here--in some other world.”

”Dear,” said Mrs. Salvey, ”you had better make your story a little short. I am sure the young ladies will want to get over the roads before nightfall.”

”Oh, it is quite early yet,” declared Cecilia falsely, for the mantel clock pointed to six.

”I'll hurry,” promised Wren. ”You see, this is the important part of it all. When we lived with grandpa he made a beautiful table--I even helped him to make it. There were tiny pieces of wood all inlaid with anchors, oars and sea emblems. I used to dip them in the hot glue for grandpa. Well, there were some secret drawers in that table, and grandpa told me that if anything should happen to him we must explore the table. Well, we went away--it was the time of my own father's death--and when we came back the table was gone.”