"Oh! mother, do let
that be finished off at least! Bobus, there are the shelves, and I
have all their pegs in my basket."
The case was happily in its place against the wall, and Janet had
seized on her recruit to hold the shelves while she pegged them,
while the two friends were still exchanging their first inquiries,
Carey exclaiming, "Now, you naughty Mary, where have you been, and
why didn't you write?"
"I have been in Russia, and I didn't write, because nobody answered,
and I didn't know where anybody was."
"In Russia! I thought you were with a Scottish family, and wrote to
you to the care of some laird with an unearthly name."
"But you knew that they took me abroad."
"And Alice Brown told me that letters sent to the place in Scotland
would find you. I wrote three times, and when you did not answer my
last-—" and Caroline broke off with things unutterable in her face.
"I never had any but the first when you were going to London. I
answered that. Yes, I did! Don't look incredulous. I wrote from
Sorrento."
"That must have miscarried. Where did you address it."
"To the old place, inside a letter to Mrs. Mercer."
"I see! Poor Mrs. Mercer went away ill, and did not live long after,
and I suppose her people never troubled themselves about her letters.
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