"Hush! Hush!" begged her mother. "I never said you was a bad girl. You're a very good girl. But when you bring home a box of chocolates at this hour—nine o'clock, and past—and say you won them in a raffle, and you've been working—well!"
"What's that you're reading?" asked Sally, pointing to the small print.
Mrs. Minto straightened the sheet of newspaper, and held it up to the light.
"It's an old paper," she said. "A trial."
"Lor! Murder?" Sally almost left her supper. "What's it all about?"
"Well ... oo, he must a been a wicked wretch. He poisoned the old lady. He'd robbed her before he did it. Took all her money to give her an annuity, and then he poisoned her."
"Poison! Whew! What sort of poison?"
"Flypapers, it was. Not them sticky ones, but the brown, what you put in water. Got arsenic in them, they have."
Mrs. Minto looked over her magnifying glass at Sally in a bewildered way.