"You don't need to get up unless you want," she went on. "Patty or Ide will carry you up something."
I wouldn't hear of that, though. I said I would prefer to do what everybody else did, and I saw that this pleased Mr. Trowbridge, who had perhaps feared I would show symptoms of the pampered aristocrat. But he little knows what small pampering I get at home!
By-and-by I stood at my window, watching the fireflies and envying them because they could get their own supper. Just then among the trees there was a bigger, yellower light than their tiny lanterns. A faint smell of good tobacco smoke came up.
"Lady Betty, is that you?" asked Mr. Brett's voice.
"Yes," I answered, pushing up the frame with the mosquito netting, and leaning over the window sill.
"I've got something for you. Have you a box or basket you can let down with string, if I toss a ball of it up to you?"
"There's a small waste-paper basket," I said, quite excited.
He tossed, and I caught--Stan taught me how, long ago. Then I made the basket ready and sent it down.
"Now," he called after a minute. I hauled the basket up carefully.
"Good-night," said he. "There's a note in it, among other things. Now, pull down your mosquito net, or you'll have trouble."