They moved off
in procession; Mrs. Rainham leading the way, with Avice and Wilfred,
while Cecilia brought up the rear, holding Queenie's podgy hand.
She had telegraph forms in her desk, and the message, already written,
and even stamped, was in the pocket of her coat. There was nothing for
it but to act boldly, and accordingly, when they entered a street in
which there was a post office, she let Queenie lag until they were
a little distance behind the others. Then, as they reached the post
office, she turned sharply in.
"Wait a minute, Queenie."
She thrust her message across the counter hurriedly. The clerk on duty
was provokingly slow; he finished checking a document, and then lounged
across to the window and took the form, running over it leisurely.
"Oh, you've got the stamps on. All right," he said, and turned away just
as quick steps were heard, and Mrs. Rainham bustled in, panting.
"What are you doing?"
Cecilia met her with steady eyes.
"Nothing wrong, I assure you." She had had visions of covering her real
purpose by buying stamps--but rejected it with a shrug.
"Thethilia gave the man a pieth of paper!" said Queenie shrilly.
"What was it? I demand to know!" cried Mrs. Rainham. She turned to the
clerk, who stood open-mouthed, holding the telegram in his hand. "Show
me that telegram. I am this young lady's guardian."
The clerk grinned broadly.
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