"Yes. You can," said Sarah, staring at her, "if you will do something when you get there."
"What?" said Mary, her heart beating like a heavy and jumping hammer.
"There's something I want. You've got to bring it me."
Mary said nothing, only her wide eyes filled with tears.
"There's something in your mother's drawing-room. You know in that little table with the glass top where there are the little gold boxes with the silver crosses and things. There's a ring there—a gold one with a red stone—very pretty. I want it."
Mary drew a long, deep breath. Her fat legs in the tight, black stockings were shaking.
"You can go in when no one sees. The table isn't locked, I know, because I opened it once. You can get and bring it to me to-morrow in the garden."
"Oh," Mary whispered, "that would be stealing."
"Of course it wouldn't. Nobody wants the old ring. No one ever looks at it. It's just for fun."
"No," said Mary, "I mustn't."