“No, she wouldn’t want to be bothered, when she has company,” decided Mary. “Besides, we’ll be right back. It’s only a step. Get your hats and coats, boys, for it’s quite cold.”
“We’ll go down the back stairs,” suggested Tommy, when they were all ready. “Then Suzette won’t see us, and ask questions about where we’re going.”
So they did this, and soon they were running softly along the narrow passageway at the side of the house, that led from the back stoop. Out into the street they scampered and they eagerly looked toward the place where they had seen the letter fall.
Surely enough, it was still there, and Tommy, running to it, eagerly picked up the envelope.
“It’s a real one, all right,” he said, “for it’s got a postage stamp on it, and really-truly writing, with ink.”
“Does it say who it is to?” asked Mary.
“It does, I guess,” answered her brother, “but I can’t read writing.”
“If we could, it would save us the trouble of running after the postman and giving it to him,” spoke Johnny. “Where is he, anyhow?”
They looked up the street and down the street and all over, but they couldn’t see the letter-man. I guess he had gone around the corner.
“Oh, what shall we do?” asked Mary. “We can’t keep the letter, and it wouldn’t be right to take it home. Oh, I wish the postman hadn’t walked so fast!”