"From the Mr. Talboys, Miss Merivale," says Priscilla, the man and boy bashfully hanging back. "Put the pail inside the door, Joe," she adds, and then she takes the packages from the barrow, and turning to Honor says: "Shall I step inside with them, ma'am? The masters told me I was to be sure and deliver them myself. Oh, and there's a letter for Miss Daisy as well. And I was to give the masters' compliments, and ask how Mrs. Merivale finds herself this morning."
Up to this point the girls have done nothing but stare with mute astonishment at the oddly-laden trio. But at length, when the parcels are actually laid down, and the maid stands waiting for her answer, Honor finds her tongue:
"Tell your masters, please," she says, "that mother is feeling a little stronger this morning."
And before Honor can say another word the maid is out of the house and through the gate, where the man and the boy—both grinning from ear to ear—are awaiting her.
"What can it mean?" cries Doris, beginning to feel the parcels, while Timothy, the cat, walks gravely up to the pail and commences a deliberate inspection of the outside. "This is knobby!" Doris goes on; "and this soft—O, my gracious! what's that?" as a sound like a rather squeaky voice is heard to issue from the long parcel.
"Let us read the letter," says prompt Molly; "then we shall understand it all. No, let Daisy open it—it's her letter. I quite expect they are birthday presents from the old gentlemen. Now, let us see!"
And they all crowd round the child while she carefully opens the envelope and unfolds the letter.
"To Miss Margaret Merivale.
"My dear Miss Daisy,
"Brother Ben and I are sending some little presents for your birthday, with our best love. The young lady herself is from Brother Ben, whilst her carriage and luggage (including her bed) are from myself. I believe the young lady is rather particular about her sleeping arrangements, and has therefore thought it better to take her own bed with her. White-star is most anxious that we should deliver a very important message from her. She sends her love, and hopes you will accept for a birthday present the can of new milk she is sending you, and that you will let her send you some every day for the future. White-star thinks it will fatten up your cheeks, and she would far rather you had her milk than that the pig should.