"Then go in my room and open the small right-hand compartment of my writing-desk and put this letter in it and shut the door tight, tight again, and lock it and bring me the key. Quick, Elsie."
But again, influenced by conscientious scruples, Elsie objected.
"I 'spect Hannah wouldn't like me to go in your room so much, Lena; the windows are all open. She didn't say don't go in there, but I 'spect she thinked it, 'cause she always says don't go where the windows are open."
For the first time in her life Lena condescended to something like cajolery.
"And you will not do that for your poor sister who cannot walk?" she asked, reproachfully.
"Oh, yes, yes; and burned herself for me to save me out the fire," exclaimed Elsie, throwing her arms about Lena, "I don't care if Hannah does scold me; I'd just as lief be scolded for you. But your voice is so queer, Lena; you must be thirsty for your breakfast."
Taking the letter from her sister's hand, the child turned to obey her request, but was again assailed by doubts as to the course of duty.
"If Hannah or Letitia come, shall I tell them to put it away?" she asked.
"No, no!" answered Lena, sharply; then feeling that she must take the child, at least in a measure, into her confidence, she added, hurriedly,
"Hannah is not to see it. No one is to see it, no one; and you are not to speak of it, Elsie. Go now, quickly, and put it in the secretary."