"Everything, my dear," said Lutie, who did everything by extremes, and who wore the highest pompadour, and the highest heels, and who had the smallest waist and the largest hat that Anne had ever seen, and who always used the superlative when telling a tale.
"They stole every single thing down to the very shoes, and the kitten from the rug."
"Oh," said Anne, thinking of Belinda, "the dear little kitten. What did they want with it?"
"It was a Persian, and this morning it came back, but the silver collar was gone from its neck, and they took even a thimble from a work-basket, and a box of candy and a cake!"
"Did they get anything valuable?" asked Anne.
"All of Mrs. Durant's diamonds and the family silver," said Lutie. "My dear, Mrs. Durant is ill, absolutely ill, and the worst of it is that she saw the burglar, and it frightened her so that she hasn't gotten over it yet."
"How dreadful," said little Anne, thinking of the great sideboard and all of the Jameson silver that she and Perkins had cleaned. "Oh, Judy, suppose they should come here!"
But Judy was standing by the window, watching a figure that slipped from the boat-house to the wharf with a bundle on his shoulder, the figure of a small boy, with his cap pulled low.
"Such things are like lightning; they never strike twice in the same place," she said, indifferently. "Don't go, Lutie."
"Oh, I must," gushed Lutie. "I was just dying to see you, Anne, for a minute, so I came with Judy. But I must go. They will think I am dead."