Amy had stopped to admire the new garment, fashioned from an old one of Hallam's, and having thus satisfied the little one's innocent pride, now opened her recovered keepsake. She lifted the letters idly, dropped them, and again catching one that had, indeed, lain upon the top, sprang up and waved it overhead.
"The letter! the letter! The lost one of Adam!"
"No; is it really? To come in such a way—"
"On such a day—oh, Hal!"
She caught her brother's hands and wrung them in delight, then ran to her father and placed the letter before him.
He looked at it critically.
"Yes; that is Adam Burn's handwriting. His own familiar seal. These people who have had it in keeping—"
"I hided it. Zen I dugged it out. Same like Fayetty," explained Sir William, between mouthfuls.
"The blessed baby! that explains."
"Let us go into the parlor and read it. It is yours, daughter; you must yourself break the seal."