CHAPTER X.
MISS SCRIMP’S CURIOSITY.
Little Jessie Albemarle always had the door-bell to answer, even if she was making beds in the top story of the house, when she heard it, for Miss Scrimp considered it beneath her dignity to go to the door when she was able to keep a cook and a house-servant. Moreover, she was seldom dressed for appearance at the door except when ready to go to market or the time arrived when she could watch her hungry boarders from the accustomed seat at the head of the long table in her dining-room.
And Jessie heard a sharp, sudden ring thrice repeated, only a week later than when she had answered the postman’s ring before for Hattie Butler’s California letter, and she knew by the peculiar ring who was there. She bounded down stairs two or three steps at a jump, and passed Miss Scrimp on the landing at the head of the first stairs where she usually posted herself to listen when any one came to the door.
The postman handed her a letter, and Jessie, at a glance, saw that it was for Miss Hattie Butler—was postmarked in California and sealed with red wax with that strange device—two hearts pierced with an arrow.
Scarcely was the door shut when Miss Scrimp screamed out, in her usual shrill tone:
“You, Jess! who is that letter for?”
“Miss Hattie Butler, ma’am,” said Jess, meekly. “Sha’n’t I keep it and give it to her when she comes?”
“No, bring it here this minute!”
Jess went slowly up stairs, and reluctantly handed the letter over to her mistress. She had given her letters before, which she knew never reached those to whom they were directed. And the poor little servant loved Hattie Butler, and could not bear that she should be wronged.
Miss Scrimp looked at her letter.