The postman having departed, Seth, with the letter on his leather apron, fell into a brown study. It had suddenly occurred to him that it might contain unwelcome intelligence; perhaps it came from some person who claimed the child. In that case, would it not be better for him to destroy it without reading it? Sally, aware from the expression on Seth's face--a book in which she was by this time deeply read--that he was revolving an important consideration with reference to the letter, was in a fever of excitement. So, in a less degree, were the neighbours surrounding the stall.
"Open it, Mr. Dumbrick," said Mrs. Preedy, who was always one in a Rosemary Lane crowd. There are in every neighbourhood two or three women ordained to fulfil this special mission. "Open it, and let's know what's inside."
Seth, recalled to himself by this polite request, looked up with shrewd twinkles, and replied:
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Preedy, but this is a private matter between the Duchess and the Queen, and to let you into the secret'd be more than my head's worth. Let's go downstairs, Duchess, and see what her Majesty has to say to you."
"He's the selfishest man," said Mrs. Preedy, "is that Mr. Dumbrick, as ever I clapped eyes on--keeping things to hisself in that way! It's a good job he ain't married; he'd torment the soul out of a poor woman."
Meanwhile, this selfishest of men was sitting in his cellar, with the Duchess on his knee.
"Duchess," he said, in a tone which denoted that he wished to engage her serious attention, "this is a most unexpected and mysterious occurrence. Since I've been in Rosemary Lane, I've received altogether three letters--about one every ten years--and here you are at your age beginning to bother the Post Office. You're commencing early, Duchess."
The Duchess nodded languidly. The letter, not being something nice to eat, was of no interest to her.
"The question is," continued Seth, who seemed to have lost for the time his decision of character, "what is in this letter, and who sent it? It's a good handwriting, and there can't be any mistake about its being for you."
"Open it, Daddy," said Sally.