of the Lovely Lady's, surely. But--what? We can't
tell yet. It might be mother, father, sister, brother, husband, son, or
daughter, any of these.

"The Lovely Lady (I'll have to call her that, because we don't know her
name) was giving a party, and every one was at dinner, when word was
suddenly brought to her about this relative. Or perhaps the person was
right there, and did something that displeased her,--I can't tell which.
Whatever it was,--bad news either way,--it could only have been one of
two things. Either the relative was dead, or had done something awful
and disgraceful. Anyhow, the Lovely Lady was so terribly shocked by it
that she dismissed her dinner party right away. I don't suppose she felt
it right to do it. It was not very polite, but probably excusable under
the circumstances!"

"Maybe she fainted away," suggested Cynthia, practically. "Ladies were
always doing that years ago, especially when they heard bad news."

"Good enough!" agreed Joyce. "I never thought of it. She probably did.
Of course that would break up the party at once. Well when she came to
and every one had gone, she was wild, frantic with grief or
disappointment or disgust, and decided she just _couldn't_ stay in that
house any longer. She must have dismissed her servants right away,
though why she didn't make them clear up first, I can't think. Then she
began to pack up to go away, and decided she wouldn't bother taking most
of her things. And sometime, just about then, she probably turned the
picture to the wall and took the other one out of her locket and threw
it into the fire. Then she went away, and never, never came back any
more."

"Yes, but how about the house?" objected Cynthia. "How did that get
boarded up?"

"I have thought that out," said Joyce. "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."

"I think she was foolish to leave all her good clothes," commented
Cynthia, "and the locket under the bed, too."

"I 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?"

"Why, 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 mysteri