Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/30

. 29, 1861.] was scoured until it rivalled in whiteness the clean cloth which covered one end, were currants, flour, and other ingredients for Christmas pies and cakes. Beside it was Miss Bentley, with tucked-up sleeves, busily at work. Before the large bright fire was a large “bowl” full of dough for spiced bread; from the oven came a simmering, and a rich flavour of good cheer pervaded the room. Susan stood timidly on the mat by the door, not venturing further in until she was invited.

Miss Bentley who was then inspecting and arranging the contents of the oven saw, as she turned back to the table, Susan standing in doubt, and the snow hanging on her shawl. “It’s a bad night,” said she, “heavy snow, shak’ it off on the outside, and then shut t’ door, an’ come to t’ fire.”

Miss Bentley, without desisting from her labours, asked Susan, after she was seated, to explain her business. Susan told her briefly that she had a letter from her sister in London, and that it was about some lost money.

“Lost money,” cried Miss Bentley, rolling out the paste; “it’s some of Sam’s fond work again—where’s the letter, my girl?”

Susan took out a letter. Miss Bentley came from the table, and with floury fingers, eagerly seized it. Susan, in her forgetfulness, had given her the letter written by Julia to her sister, as well as the one enclosed for Mr. Bentley.

Miss Bentley examined the letter addressed to her brother. Her fingers itched to open it, but her curiosity could not overcome her repugnance to opening a letter addressed to another. Without saying a word she put it in her pocket, and then, taking up Julia’s letter to Susan, deliberately read it through. It did not give her much information as to the writer or receiver, for it had no address, and was signed “Julia;” it expressed sorrow for her sister’s misfortune, hoped it would be a warning, assured her of continued love, of joy at the prospect of re-union, and then spoke of Mr. Bentley’s visit, of the loss and finding of the note, of anxiety for its return, and for payment of her small account, as she was almost penniless, and the care of the note was heavy on her mind.

“I am not a good hand at reading writing,”