ourselves—and it can't do anyone any harm, and we don't want to do anyone any harm. There must be something that wouldn't let it be!"
"I believe that too," said Meg; and this time it was she who clutched at Robin's hand, but he seemed glad she did, and held as close as she.
And then, after the bluebirds had sung a few times more, there came a night when Meg crept out of her cot, after she was sure that the woman in the other bed was sleeping heavily enough. Everyone went to bed early, and everyone slept through the night in heavy, tired sleep. Too much work was done on the place to allow people to waste time in sleeplessness. Meg knew no one would waken as she crept downstairs to the lower part of the house, and softly opened the back-door.
Robin was standing outside with the little leather satchel in his hand. It was a soft, warm night, and the dark blue sky was full of the glitter of stars. Both he and Meg stood still a moment and looked up.
"I'm glad it's like this," Meg said; "it doesn't seen so lonely. Is your heart thumping, Robin?"
"Yes, rather," whispered Robin. "I left the letter in a place where Aunt Matilda will be likely to find it some time to-morrow."
"What did you say?" Meg whispered back.
