One day when we dropped one of our parcels at the feet of a lady who
was going by, she nonplussed us very effectually by ringing the bell
and handing in to the footman "something which had been accidentally
dropped from one of the upper windows." Fortunately for us the parcel
did not reach Aunt Maria; Polly intercepted it.
As the passers-by never wearied of our parcels, I do not know when we
should have got tired of our share of the fun, but for an occurrence
which brought the amusement suddenly to an end. One afternoon we had
made up the neatest of little white-paper parcels, worthy of having
come from a jeweller's, and I clambered on to the window-seat that I
might drop it successfully (and quite clear of the area) into the
street. Just as I dropped it, there passed an elderly gentleman very
precisely dressed, with a gold-headed cane, and a very well-brushed
hat. Pop! I let the cinder parcel fall on to his beaver, from which it
rebounded to his feet. The old gentleman looked quickly up, our eyes
met, and I felt convinced that he saw that I had thrown it. I called
Polly, and as she reached my side the old gentleman untied and
examined the parcel. When he came to the cinder, he looked up once
more, and Polly jumped from the window with a prolonged "Oh!"
"What's the matter?" I asked.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71