“Alice, you’re not going out?” she said, though the girl’s purpose was evident.
“I am going to Farleigh to drop this letter in the post office, mother.”
“But, my dear child, it isn’t open on Sunday.”
“There’s a place on the outside where you can drop letters in,” declared the girl.
“What a pity you didn’t send it by Mr. Miller! Don’t you know, Alice, that he always goes down for evening service?”
“I didn’t want to send it by him.”
“Indeed, is it a very important letter, Alice?”
“It’s a letter to father!” cried the girl.
Mrs. Lorraine paled. “I am glad you wrote your father, dear, and—it’s all right if you wish to post it yourself. Wait a minute and I will go with you.”
“O mother, you mustn’t leave Miss Penny!” Alice declared; then, as steps sounded at that moment on the porch: “O, someone’s coming. Let me get away.” And she slipped quickly out.