“Watching other people and thinking very hard; but I’d like to know the truth about Mr. Peyton.”
Some time after Persis heard the story. It was when the announcement of Mr. Peyton’s death reached her, conveyed by means of a letter from one of his executors, who stated that the old desk, with its contents, was left as a bequest to “Persis Carter’s grand-daughter, Persis Holmes.” A few days later the desk was sent, and since Persis’s snuggery was too small to accommodate it, after some planning it was decided that the second daughter really needed a room of her own, and so Lisa took her possessions into the larger apartment, formerly occupied by the boys, and Persis set up her desk by the window.
Annis was on hand when the big piece of furniture arrived, and viewed it with much satisfaction. “Isn’t it a dear old thing?” she said.
“Yes. I feel quite pensively sentimental over it. I think it was so good of Cousin Ambrose to leave it to me.”
“Have you examined the contents?”
“Yes. I found some old books and coins,—nice old books they are, too. On the fly-leaf of one I found, ‘To Ambrose Peyton; from his cousin, Persis Carter.’ Then there are some volumes of history and a very old edition of Shakespeare.”
Annis was opening the various doors and compartments of the old desk. “Oh, here is a tiny little drawer,” she said. “It has a big envelope in it. Have you seen that?”
“No; where did you find it?”
“Here, in this little place that opens like a sliding panel.”
“I never thought of looking there. Let me see. Why, Annis, it is addressed to me.”