"Of course, it is. Give me the bag. I'll open it."
Then, without more ado, Francis deliberately opened the bag. Thus the second step in wrong-doing was taken.
They examined the letter closely and leisurely, not one minute, but many minutes, passing while they were thus engaged. Then Luella said: "I'm going to read the letter. It's all the same whether we read it here or at home."
It proved to be a very kind letter from Aunt Maria, who had lately made them a visit. She concluded by saying: "While I was with you I took pleasure in noticing your constant obedience. As a sort of reward, I enclose for you each a five-dollar gold piece. Please accept the gift with my love."
"Where are the gold pieces?" asked Francis, taking the envelope from Luella, "Oh! here's one in the corner of this thing. I'll take this; but where's the other?"
Where was the other? It was easier to ask the question than to reply. The two children folded and unfolded the letter. They turned the envelope inside out. They searched through their clothing. They inspected the grass and the path. If it had been possible, they would have lifted the stone upon which they had been sitting; but that would have been an herculean task. At length they reluctantly gave up the search and sadly went on their way homeward.
"I wish we hadn't opened the letter," said Luella. "What are we going to tell mother and father anyhow?"
"Well, I think we'd better tell them the whole story. Perhaps they'll help us look for the other gold piece."
Francis, with the one coin in his hand, naturally took a more hopeful view of the situation than his sister did.
"Perhaps Aunt Maria only put one in the letter," he suggested.