She had well calculated her time, and before long saw Leo come out, book in hand, for her customary walk up and down the garden.
Dally wasted no time, but hurried to Mary’s room to listen for a few moments, and then steal into Leo’s, where she peered in for a moment, and then hurried out to return with a dustpan and brush and a duster. These she placed upon chair and floor to cover her appearance should Leo return; while, after a rummage in her pocket, she brought out a little key.
Before using this she darted to the window, and waited till she could see Leo going from the house, when, with rat-like action, she made for a chest of drawers, upon which stood a desk, opened it with the speed of one accustomed to the task, and lifting one side, thrust in her hand, to draw out a packet of letters tied with a ribbon.
The top one bore a postmark only two days old, and this the girl drew out, skimmed over as rapidly as her illiterate brain would allow, and as she read her countenance changed again and again.
“Ah!” she ejaculated, at last. “You would, would you?” and taking up a pencil from the tray, and a new envelope, she laboriously copied out what seemed to be an address.
Then, with a smile of triumph, she hurriedly refolded the letter and replaced it in the packet, thrust the newly addressed envelope in her bosom, re-locked the desk, and had hardly destroyed all signs of her action, when she heard a slight cough.
Dally ran more rat-like than ever to the place where the dustpan and brush lay, plumped down on her knees, and began to work with her back to the door, humming away in a low tone as busily as could be amongst the dust she raised.
“Dally!” cried Leo, opening the door.
“Yes, miss.”
“Oh, what a dreadful dust! You know I don’t like this unnecessary sweeping going on.”