to find several articles for which she had searched in vain elsewhere.
"Why, here's the tea cloth that I thought had been lost in the wash!" she exclaimed. "And Miss Lindsay's dressing jacket—she was afraid she must have left it in London. Why! and here's a coat of Daisy Scatcherd's. I remember quite plainly putting it by last autumn, when she had such a terrible cold. I thought it was too thin for her to wear. Why didn't the child ask me for it? She's as forgetful as I am. It's just the thing for chilly evenings, to slip on when she's been playing tennis."
Miss Edith gave the coat a good shake, and as she did so there fell from the pocket an unopened letter. She picked it up and looked at the address:
"Miss Gipsy Latimer,
Briarcroft Hall,
Greyfield,
England."
She read it twice before she realized its significance. Then, trembling violently, she sank on to a chair, and gave way to what very closely resembled a fit Of hysteria.
"Fetch Miss Poppleton!" she cried to the alarmed servant who ran to the linen room at the sound of her wails. "Oh, dear! To think it's all my fault!"
Miss Poppleton hurried to the scene at once, and though at first her sister's explanation was rather incoherent, she managed to grasp the main facts of the case.
"It's Gipsy's missing letter, Dorothea! It must have come after all, you see, only I can't imagine how it
