"
"What young lady?" asked Carrie. "You had better tell me everything."
"Oh, it was that Irish young lady, Miss Malone. She come here with the
most beautiful 'at on (no, it was wot they calls a talk), and the
wiolets in it they might 'av growed, I could a'most smell 'em; and she
come in distracted like, and writ the letter, and told me I was to give
it to Miss Helma the very moment she returned, and that Miss Helma was
to take her the money to-night--what money is more than I can tell, for
I didn't think Miss Helma ever had any. And she said it was an important
transaction. And I said, 'Is it like the Bank of England, miss?' and she
said, 'Yes, to be sure.' Why, Miss Carrie, you have not gone and hid the
letter, 'ave you? That would be real mean of you."
"Look here," said Carrie; "what did you say about those violets?"
"Why, she gave 'em to me, miss; she took 'em out of her cap, and she
give 'em to me, and I was to give the letter to Miss Helma. It was a
fair and honest bargain, and I must keep my part of it miss."
"Would you like some roses to put with the violets?" said Carrie, making
a careful calculation.
"Roses, miss? That would be prime, and very seasonable, wouldn't they
miss?"
"Yes, violets and roses look very pretty together, and I'll pin them
into your hat and furbish it up.
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