Lissy had lost interest in the chest.

The little girl tottered around, trying hopelessly to scale the thick oak. Anna and Erin ignored her.

Erin fiddled with the latch of the metal chest and finally pried it open. When she lifted the lid, it creaked like a door in a haunted house.

“What’s there?” Anna whispered.

Erin didn’t reply. She gingerly lifted several items out of the deep chest: a doll, a yellowed, thick envelope, and a crisp, white sheet of paper, folded over.

The girls stared. A few feet away, Lissy had given up on the tree and now sat, happily sucking on a blade of grass.

Anna gently picked up the doll. It was immensely fragile, liable to break any moment. Its china arms were ghost-white and it had deep blue eyes.

“Let’s look in the envelope,” Erin said in a hushed tone. “What d’you think?”

Anna had no idea what to think. All thoughts of the Internet and city had just left her mind, because this afternoon had just become quite interesting indeed.