“Master said I was never to take any notes for anybody,” said Dally sharply.
“But you will make an exception, Dally! Take a note for me, and bring me an answer, and I will give you a sovereign.”
“To Mrs Berens, miss?”
Leo looked at her meaningly, and the girl returned the gaze.
“Very well, miss; I’ll take it,” she said. “Must I go right to the Hall?”
“Yes, Dally, this evening, and nobody must know. Insist upon seeing him yourself, and bring me back an answer by word of mouth, if he cannot write.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Can I trust you?”
“Trust me, miss? Why, of course!” cried Dally, for Leo was giving her the opportunity she had sought. For days past she had been trying to find some way of getting a word with Tom Candlish; but, so far, it had been impossible. Now the way had been put into her hands.
“Thankye, miss,” she said, dropping a curtsy, as she slipped a long letter and a sovereign into her pocket. “And if I don’t settle your affair there, madam,” she said to herself, “I don’t know Tom Candlish, and he don’t know quite what Dally Watlock can do when she’s served like this.”