act and jumped to a fatal conclusion about that parcel.
Old Mrs. Hiram Sloane had lately taken to making and selling “nut cakes” by way of adding to her scanty income. The cakes were specially tempting to small boys and for several weeks Anne had had not a little trouble in regard to them. On their way to school the boys would invest their spare cash at Mrs. Hiram’s, bring the cakes along with them to school, and, if possible, eat them and treat their mates during school hours. Anne had warned them that if they brought any more cakes to school they would be confiscated; and yet here was St. Clair Donnell coolly passing a parcel of them, wrapped up in the blue and white striped paper Mrs. Hiram used, under her very eyes.
“Joseph,” said Anne quietly, “bring that parcel here.”
Joe, startled and abashed, obeyed. He was a fat urchin who always blushed and stuttered when he was frightened. Never did anybody look more guilty than poor Joe at that moment.
“Throw it into the fire,” said Anne.
Joe looked very blank.
“P . . . p . . . p . . . lease, m . . . m . . . miss,” he began.
“Do as I tell you, Joseph, without any words about it.”
“B . . . b . . . but m . . . m . . . miss . . . th . . . th . . . they’re . . .” gasped Joe in desperation.
