She tried for a while longer, but still could not get it open.
"Did they change the lock? That can't be right-" Dorothea frowned and knocked on the door.
"I sent a letter home before-" she muttered to herself, "but I never got a reply-I should have sent a telegram, but it was a little expensive, so I didn't-"
Her voice was filled with regret and anxiety.
The door creaked open.
Dorothea instinctively breathed a sigh of relief, but when she saw the unfamiliar woman's face behind the door, she froze.
"You are-"
The woman who answered was middle-aged and wore an apron, her hands dusted with flour. She looked Dorothea over in confusion.
Dorothea took a step back and looked up to check the house number. "Isn't this-the Ramsey family's house?"
"The Ramsey family?"
The woman clearly looked a little bewildered too. She called into the house a few times, and a short man poked his head out.
After hearing why Dorothea had come, understanding dawned on the man's face. "Oh! You mean old Lamb! When I bought this house, the agent said a bankrupt merchant had put it up for sale. That would be your father, right?"
"B-bankrupt?!" Dorothea looked as though she had been struck by lightning, her face instantly turning deathly pale. "No-impossible! Wait! Then,
"then where did they go afterward?!"
The man scratched his head. "Well-I don't know. I only heard someone mention it when I bought the house-are you his daughter?
"I have the deed of transfer here. All the paperwork is in order-"
The man soon dug out a document. Dorothea read it carefully. There was nothing wrong with it; all the paperwork was in order.
She stood in the street, bewildered, still somewhat unwilling to accept the truth. "This-how is this possible?!