“I lifted up some of the mass of clothing so that the items tumbled down into the lower portion of the trunk, and there I unearthed a mass of jewelry—pearls and brooches and cameos—all thrown among the dresses as if no one had cared about them, which was a puzzle to me because I knew when I held them that the pearls were real; and as for the cameos, I lifted them out one by one and saw that they were fine little works, specimens Aunt Queen would like very much, and all of them—all three—had gold frames, and good contrast to them, being made out of dark shell.

“Why were they here, so neglected, so forgotten, I wondered. Who had just heaped them here amid dresses that were molding, and when had such a thing been done?

“The noise came again, a rustling sound, and another soft sound like a footstep that made me pivot and face the attic door.

“There stood Goblin, glaring at me with alarm in his face, and very emphatically he shook his head and mouthed the word No.

“ ‘But I want to know who she was,’ I said to him. He disappeared rather slowly, as though he were weak and frightened, and I felt the air grow cool as it often did after his disappearances, and I wondered why he had been so weak.

“By now, you can guess that I was so used to Goblin that I wasn’t all that interested in him anymore. I felt superior to him. At this moment, I didn’t think much about him at all.

“I set to work laying out the entire contents of the trunk upon the top of another trunk beside it. It was clear that the contents had just been heaped inside, helter-skelter, and all except the cameos and the pearls was a total loss.

“There were beautiful old mutton-sleeve dresses, dresses that went back surely to the days of long skirts, and there were old rotted lace blouses, two or more with fine shell cameos attached at the throat, and what must have been silk gowns. Some items fell apart in my hands. Cameos, all ‘Rebecca at the Well.’

“ ‘So you loved just that one theme,’ I said out loud. ‘Were you named for it?’

“I heard the rustling again, and I felt something brush me, soft, as if a cat had brushed my neck. Then nothing. Nothing but the quiet and the dying afternoon around us, and a kind of dread I had to escape.

“There was nothing better than to explore this trunk.