She made an unfortunate pause, flustered by a burst of laughter.
Miss Kezia's cheek reddened a little.
"Molly, your language—"
"Oh, no! Oh, I didn't mean that! I mean that if you don't know it, you get caught, and if you do, you don't, and—and—you see—we wrote letters to each other—we didn't know the others were remembering the date, too, and of course if it had been our own handwriting we'd have known, you see. So we disguised them, and we can't open them before twelve or we'll be fools." She stopped, out of breath.
Miss Kezia said slowly:—
"Do you mean that you have wasted all those stamps, that paper, those envelopes, on a ridiculous childish game? That you have thrown away honest pennies on such tom-foolery?"
She proceeded to deliver a lecture on thrift which lasted throughout breakfast. Just before Denis started for the bank, a telegram came for Nell. Sarah brought it up to the Stronghold. She looked at Nell with scared pity in her face.
"It's for you, miss!"
Nell seized it, tore it open, burst out laughing.
"I'm caught! It's from Moira McCarthy! Oh, I wish I could catch her!"