There were cigarette-boxes full of nothing but butts and ashes. There were three of my low-cut bodices. There were some of Aubrey's ties and a number of my best handkerchiefs.
I said nothing. I simply stared.
"We all knew of these things, Faith dear," said Aubrey, "but even if you had caught her wearing your clothes or smoking, we knew she would lie out of it, so we waited."
"We knew she hated you so that she couldn't help telling you," added
Cary.
"Hated me?" I murmured. "What for?"
Cary blushed furiously, and looked at Aubrey.
"Has Ar— Have you—" I stammered, eagerly.
Cary nodded and Aubrey looked wise. Then Cary and I rushed for each other.
While we still had our arms around each other crying for joy, Mary appeared at the door with her apron filled with the neat little jars of jellies and marmalades I had got for Flora's breakfasts. They had not been opened. Mary regarded me with grim but whimsical defiance.
"The little blister never got a blamed one of 'em, Missis!" she said.