"You'll let me come now, Miss," she said. "You must be so tired. You ought to go home and get a bit of sleep."
Marjorie stooped down and kissed the poor old face lying on the pillow, and then she crept downstairs and went out into the darkness. But she did not mind even that to-night; she felt as if she cared for nothing, so long as the box was safe. When she got to the house the door had been left on the latch, so she let herself in and crept up to bed, carrying the precious box with her.
[CHAPTER XV]
156, LIME STREET
MARJORIE was wakened the next morning by hearing some one moving about in her room. She looked up and saw Patty standing near her bed, with a little tray in her hand.
"Miss Douglas, I've brought you your breakfast," she said. "Shall I draw up the blind?"
"Oh dear," said Marjorie, jumping up, "I had no idea it was so late; why did nobody wake me?"
"Mother wouldn't let us; she told us you had been up half the night."
"Yes, poor old Mrs. Hotchkiss sent for me."
"Miss Douglas, old Enoch has just been here, and he said we were to tell you she is dead. She went to sleep soon after you left her, and when Peggy Jones looked at her about an hour afterwards, she found that she was dead."