"You shall not mock me," she panted. "But in good earnest, Rob, 'tis impossible."
"Come, Prue, no despair. Why, I have seen him hand thee his keys a hundred times."
"Aye, but that was for the cellar, when he fancied a certain wine at supper, or maybe for his bureau in the counting-house, to fetch papers or moneys. Not—not—Rob!"
"Well!"
"Thinkest thou not, perchance that a glass of hot port wine might help my Lady Cicely to sleep."
"Prue! Thou has hit on the very plan. And once the chain is in my hands, the key of the shed is ours. But go to thy father quickly, sweet, or 'twill be too late, and Lady Cicely will fall asleep before her drink be prepared."
"Oh! Rob, I shall laugh when I ask him; I know I shall."
"Not you, Prue. I've too good cause to know your powers of acting a part."
Prue laughed and blushed at this reference to the evening's quarrel. Then she sprang quickly to her feet.
"Well, I must do my best. Do you wait here, Rob, and in ten minutes I'll be with you."