uestioning in it.

And immediately Betty's face grew white and frightened, far more so
than at any moment before during their adventure, so that the other
girl was instantly regretful of her speech.

"Polly O'Neill," two firm hands next took hold on Polly's thin
shoulders, turning her deliberately over in bed so that she was forced
to face her questioner, "ever since I can remember there has been some
mystery or other connected with this old room. Of course it is not
haunted. I suppose sensible people don't believe in ghosts, though I
don't see why not believing makes them fail to exist. But the room may
have had a tragedy of some kind take place in it, something that both
mother and Dick find it painful to mention or recall. I told you that
mother would not explain her feeling to me when I insisted upon
knowing. However, I don't think my family has the right to keep a
secret from me. I am nearly grown now and no longer the kind of girl I
used to be. So see here, Polly. Look me directly in the eyes.
Oftentimes outsiders hear things first. Have you ever heard of a
sorrow or accident, or even something worse, that may have occurred in
this house or even in this room when I was too little a girl to
understand or remember it? You must tell me the truth."

Polly shook her head, devoutly thankful at the moment for her own lack
of information. With Betty's beautiful, honest gray eyes searching her
own, with her lips trembling and her cheeks flushed with the fervor of
her desire, her friend would have found deceiving her extremely
difficult. Yet it was more agreeable to change the subject of their
talk, even though it continued upon dangerous grounds.

"No, Betty, I was not thinking of ghosts nor of the fact that you have
always been absurdly curious about the mystery of this room. I was
thinking of something altogether different--of a thief, in fact--and I
was wondering whether you would be angry or hurt or both if I mention
something to you?" Polly returned.

Betty kissed her friend's thin cheek, wishing at the same instant that
it would grow more rounded, now that Polly was presumably well. "You
don't usually mind making me angry, dear," she smiled. "And I don't
see why if you have a possible theory of a burglar that I should be
hurt. Do you think the figure we saw was a man's or a woman's?"

"I don't know," the other girl replied. "What I have been wondering is
just this: Has any one in this house eve