So Patty opened the door, and Daisy Dow came in.
“I want to tell you something,” she said, as Patty stood waiting, brush in hand. “I don’t really want to tell you a bit,—but Jim says I must,” and Daisy looked decidedly cross and ill-tempered.
Patty realised that it was a bother of some kind, and she said, gently, “Leave it till morning, Daisy; we’ll both feel brighter then.”
“No; Jim said I must tell you to-night. Oh, pshaw, it’s nothing, anyway! Only there was a letter for you from Bill Farnsworth, and I took it from May, and kept it for a while, just to tease you. I was going to give it to you to-morrow, anyway; but Jim came and asked me about it, and made such a fuss! Men are so silly!”
“Why, no, Daisy, it isn’t anything much; only you know people do like to have letters that belong to them! But, as you say, it’s nothing to make a fuss about. Incidentally, I believe it’s a State’s prison offence,—or would be if you opened it. You didn’t, did you?”
“Of course not!” said Daisy; “but I knew it was only a card, like ours, and I just kept it back for fun.”
“It doesn’t seem to me an awfully good joke,—but never mind that. Give me the letter, and we’ll call it square, and I won’t have you arrested or anything.”
Patty spoke lightly, but really she was deeply annoyed at this foolish trick of Daisy’s. However, since Jim had found out the truth and made Daisy own up, there was no great harm done.
“I haven’t got the letter,” said Daisy. “I left it downstairs, but we can get it in the morning. I’m sure it’s only a card; it is just the same size and shape as ours.”
“Daisy, what did you do it for?” And Patty looked the girl in the eyes, in a real curiosity to know why she should descend to this petty meanness.