"But, cousin, it is very odd about the thimble!" said Lucy, diverted from her letter for a moment. "Where did you find it?"
"Standing on the table beside the box."
"I do not understand it," repeated Lucy. "It certainly was lying there under the aloe-leaves when I went out with you that day."
"Perhaps Robbins picked it up and laid it upon the table," said Cousin Deborah. "He might have done so, and then forgotten all about it, for he grows more and more forgetful all the time. But now, my love, go and write the good news to Aunt Bernard, while I look after poor Anne."
Lady Lucy's Secret.
Great news from the wars.
Lucy's own part of the letter was as follows:—
"DEAR AUNT BERNARD:—This came in a letter from my father last Tuesday, and Cousin Deborah bade me write it out for you. We have got news this day that there has been a great battle, and the English have beat, and my papa is well, only he has got a cut on his face, but poor Jack Martin, Anne's bachelor, is killed. Dear Aunt Bernard, I know I was a naughty girl a great many times, and I hope you will forgive me, as I do you. I hope you will excuse blots, for I cannot help crying when I think about poor Jack Martin and his mother."
"That will do very well!" said Cousin Deborah, when Lucy showed her the letter. "No, you need not copy it. Send it as it is."
So Lucy sent her little letter to Aunt Bernard; but I am sorry to say she never received any answer.