"Now you go to bed, Miss Jessie," whispered Betty. "I'll wait."
"No, you must be tired," said Jessie. "I'd just as lief."
"But I'd ruther," said Betty shortly—"'n' I'm going to; it won't be long now."
So Jessie crept quietly upstairs, and before long there was a low rap on the kitchen door. Betty opened it, and there stood a man.
"Ready?" said he.
"Yes," answered Betty; "but don't speak loud; Miss Jarvis has sharp ears, 'n' we don't want her disturbed. Here's the card to mark it by," and she produced a card from the table.
The man put it in his pocket, shouldered the box, and Betty shut the door.
Not one of those good things ever went into the Jarvis dining-room!
The next morning things went on just as usual in the house. The kitchen door was left open and Mrs. Jarvis was welcome to smell any of the appetizing odours that wafted out into her room. Jessie resumed her study, and especially her practice, for she hoped some day to be a great musician. She waited on her mother and took charge of the housekeeping, so much as was necessary with the well-tried servant at the head of the kitchen. And though she had but sixteen years over her bright brown head, she proved herself to be what in that little New England town was called "capable."
But that box of goodies! Let us see where it went.