Miss Thankful bridled and gave her sister a look of open rebuke.  She had, as one could instantly see from her strong features and purposeful ways, been a woman of decided parts and of strict, upright character.  Weakened as she was, the shadow of an untruth disturbed her.  Her pride ran in a different groove from that of her once over-complimented, over-fostered sister.  She was going to add a protest in words to that expressed by her gesture, but I hastily prevented this by coming at once to the point of my errand.

“My excuse for this early call,” I said, this time addressing Miss Thankful, “lies in an adventure which occurred to me yesterday in the adjoining house.”  It was painful to see how they both started, and how they instinctively caught each at the other’s hand as they sat side by side on the sofa, as if only thus they could bear the shock of what might be coming next.  I had to nerve myself to proceed.  “You know, or rather I gather from your kind greetings that you know that I am at present staying with Mrs. Packard.  She is very kind and we spend many pleasant hours together; but of course some of the time I have to be alone, and then I try to amuse myself by looking about at the various interesting things which are scattered through the house.”

A gasp from Miss Charity, a look still more expressive from Miss Thankful.  I hastened to cut their suspense short.

“You know the little cabinet they have placed in the old entrance pointing this way?  Well, I was looking at that when the whim seized me—­I hardly know how—­to press one of the knobs in the molding which runs about the doorway, when instantly everything gave way under me and I fell into a deep hole which had been scooped out of the alley-way—­nobody knows for what.”

A cry and they were on their feet, still holding hands and endeavoring to show nothing but concern for my disaster.

“Oh, I wasn’t hurt,” I smiled.  “I was frightened, of course, but not so much as to lose my curiosity.  When I got to my feet again, I looked about in this surprising hole—­”

“It was our uncle’s way of reaching his winecellar,” Miss Thankful explained with great dignity as she and her sister sank back into their seats.  “He had some remarkable old wine, and, as he was covetous of it, he conceived this way of securing it from everybody’s knowledge but his own.  It was a strange way, but he was a little touched,” she added, laying a slow impressive finger on her forehead, “just a little touched here.”

The short, significant glance she cast at Charity as she said this, and the little smile she gave were to give me to understand that this weakness had descended in the family.  I felt my heart contract; my self-imposed task was a harder one than I had anticipated, but I could not shirk it now.  “Did this wine-cellar you mention run all the way to this house?” I lightly inquired.  “I stumbled on a passage leading here, which I thought you ought to know is now open to any one in Mayor Packard’s house.  Of course, it will be closed soon,” I hastened to add as Miss Charity hurriedly rose at her sister’s quick look and anxiously left the room.  “Mrs. Packard will see to that.”