Corrie had just opened the shop.  Outside the boy was cleaning the windows; inside Miss Corrie was setting things straight on the provision counter.  He himself was bending at the open safe, taking out the usual supplies of silver and copper¹ for the tills.  These were contained in ancient battered² pewter mugs, and now he laid the mugs on the floor preparatory to closing and locking up the safe.

 

An impatient knocking came from the post office, and he cursed under his breath.  But it was already five minutes past eight, and it would never do to have talk about the office not being opened punctually.  Rising, he called to his sister to look after the money, and hastened away to admit the knocker.

 

p. 83Miss Corrie moved listlessly towards the safe.  Her face had a drawn³ look.  She had not slept.  She had spoken scarce a word to her brother since Kitty’s departure, and neither she nor Sam, whom she had helped with the sorting this morning, had referred to the previous evening’s affair.  Sam and Corrie had not yet met.

 

But, a yard from the safe, the woman’s listlessness vanished, her face flamed, and then went more pallid⁴ than ever.  Never before had her brother done such a thing!!—gone out of the shop, leaving his keys in the safe.  Her opportunity at last!

 

She ran softly to the door that opened on the post office and put her ear to it.  Several persons were demanding the postmaster’s attention.  There was time as well as opportunity!  She darted⁵ back to the safe . . . opened it, then the drawer on the left . . . searched . . . and found what she sought—the letter written to her brother by Kitty’s father when he was dying.  She hid it in her bosom

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